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STUDIES IN VERSE 



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STUDIES IN 
VERSE 




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THE GRAFTON PRESS 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 






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jUi),viriHtni i-jifry 






COPYUIOHT, 1905 



The Grafix)n Prkss 



" Love me and wish me well " — Pauline 

O I do love Thee ! Thou hast done me good ! 

The chafing discords of my soul's unrest; 

The lonely suffering of my youthful breast; 
The budding Mind-flower, half understood, 
And ignorance where to prune: — ah! when I would 

Of noble song or pure endeavor, came 

Ever a Less, whose memory is my shame ! 
But now I love Thee, Thou hast done me good ! 

The soul is quieted ; the discords melt 
To satisfying harmony; unfelt 

The empty longing, Thou art grown my friend: 
The flower blossoms and the fruit appears ; 
More lofty effort calls for purer tears; 

To Thee my gratitude — who knows the end? 



I 



I 



Contents 



PAGE 

Al Kadr 1 

The Qxtestionek 13 

Bone and Glass . . . . • 16 

Sympathy 27 

The Disciples of Epicurus 30 

Wragg is in Custody 32 

On the Beach 35 

Kate or Catherine 39 

In Search of a Word 42 

Second Rhapsody 44 

Twelfth Rhapsody 45 

Philharmonic 46 

To Die — to Sleep 49 

Charasang 51 

Cremation 54 

Lethe 55 

De Mortuis 57 

Madonna di San Sisto 59 

To Mark Hopkins 60 

Togo Heihachiro 61 

A National Hymn 62 



Contents 

PAGE 

Indian Love Song 64 

At thk Cavk's Mouth 05 

The Quail's Note (jg 

The CONFIHANT Qg 

The Bukgt^vky in the Chuhch 73 

Geronuio H7 

Symbols 147 

Song — Weary and Spent 14ij 

At KtusT Sight 14() 

Love at Dawn 150 

Dkniai 151 

Wave Messages ■ .... 153 

Song — Here by the Brook 154 

Meeting in A*'teu Yeaus 155 

Song — Thkough thi; Xight 157 

Aged Companions 15^ 

A Song oe Running Wateus lO'O 

Man Love 1(J3 

Woman Love 167 

Engaged 170 

Wedding Eve 171 

Mauuied 17(^ 

Fkiendshu' 173 

Envoy 174 



STUDIES IN VERSE 



STUDIES IN VERSE 



Al Kadr 

I HOLD in my power, with mystical sway, in the liour of the 

night's decline, 
A Soul, that has grown through our life's long span more 

closely united with mine, 
To echo and vibrate with every strong pulse of my life 

toward the life divine. 

A glance of the steadfast eye, and a wave of the loving and 

governing hand — 
She sleeps; and her powers of thought are free as never 

before, to expand 
And gather a Wisdom unearthly and pure, to repeat at my 

will's command. 

She lies in a wonderful trance of peace, with a smile on 
her well-loved face; 

A Woman indeed, and of life as pure as her present un- 
conscious grace. 

And I listen intent while her murmurings sweet our hither- 
ward journey trace. 

Like gods we appear, in the world's young prime. 
And the thrill of creative life in our veins, 



Al Kadr 

Mine and thine, keeps a wonderful undulant rhyme 

With the worlds which sweep by us in limitless trains. 

They are part of us, swinging there through the abyss 

Of the infinite dark and the infinite cold; 

We and they, thoughts of God, and rejoicing that His 

Is the word they obey as their beauties unfold. 

From afar a white vision of outlying spheres 

Or a more distant nebula gleams on our sight, 

And we love them, each one, as its glory appears, 

In a brotherhood keen with exultant delight. 

For we stand at that point of the Presence Divine 

Whence the rays of love branch to the circle of stars. 

To blend with their answering multifold shine 

That pierces the ether with radiant bars. 

We are Souls, knowing unity, mystic and pure, 

Though not yet do we know all that union shall be 

Till we pass through experience of Earth, and endure — 

So learning through Sorrow the love mystery. 

To the Earth there before us, that least of the spheres. 

Where the evil man makes shall hold sway for a time. 

That his soul's clearest vision be dimmed by his tears 

And the sin-fires his loftiest longings sublime — 

To the Earth we can follow our separate way 

To be born Man and Woman; the barrier of Flesh 

Thrust strongly between us, and all the array 

Of union and sympathy, where we enmesh 

Our palpitant self, for the time torn aside; 

Unsatisfied longings crying out in their stead 



Al Kadr 

Across the dividing space, pathless and wide. 
That shuts up each soul in a loneliness dread. 
But yet there remain for our mutual cheer 
Dim memory of union that once we had known, 
Premonitions of union regained; growing clear 
As the soul shall grow fit to return to its own. 
To the struggle addressed of the life incomplete 
Toward the source of all life; to the struggle with sin, 
With self, and with ignorance, every defeat 
Conferring new power to rise and begin 
More wisely the conflict from darkness to light — 
Thus, newly created, thou art and I am. 

A pause, and I open the casement to see 

The red fingers of dawn reaching up to fold back 

The starry night canopy, flooding the black 

Of the East with the splendor of day's empery. 

I will — and again the pure cadences flow 

In a silvery melody, loving and low. 

Not yet attached to any special star ; 
Foreknowing, through the darkness of this life 
The beauty of life possible at last. 
As one can track a beam of steady light 
Athwart the gloom that all but shuts it in, 
We stand and gather strength to meet our task 
And comfort for our new humanity. 
Foreknowing that our struggle to perfect 

3 



Al Kadr 

God's image through mortality, through sin, 
Througli incompleteness, ignorance and self. 
Would be the reason for the very bonds 
Against whose pressure human souls rebel. 
That greatest question, fraught with wild despair- 
Unless its answer is the proud soul bowed. 
Learning to take its horror as the means 
And best condition for its mastery — 
The question of the evil in the world: 
That, too, we partlj' grasp, as we perceive 
That man himself makes evil for himself! 
That each may learn the beauty of holiness. 
May teach it to himself; for so alone 
Does Wisdom find a home in the heart of man. 
For even must the peerless Son of God 
Descend to be the Son of Man to meet 
And conquer Evil! Not to learn its blight. 
But to display it to his followers. 
In heaven he never could have vanquished sin; 
And we on earth had never learned the way ; 
But on the level of Man the Absolute God 
Could be the Man of Sorrows, able thus 
To reconcile the partial and the All: 
Tearing aside tlie barriers, as the veil 
Which long had hid the tilings of God from eyes 
Too blind to see, hearts dull to understand. 
But in that cry " 'tis finished," from the top 
Was rent to the bottom ; that at last 

4 



Al Kadr 

The human soul might stand, all unabashed, 

Pleading the merits of Emmanuel, 

Even in the presence of God's majesty. 

God's love within him pleading with God's power, 

A perfect Oneness given at last between 

The infinite Justice and the infinite Love! 

So we through separate incarnations waited long 

For the Epiphany; which has been given, 

And thus we know our task has reached its end. 

We pass from life which is almost a sleep 

To wake indeed within the very Life; 

The soul, with infinite longings through this world, 

With infinite power of being satisfied, 

At rest forever when His face is seen ! 

And now the power is in us to review 

The way we've come before we pierce the clouds. 

And from this mountain top to cast a glance 

O'er all the hills and valleys we have passed. 

We see that incompleteness is bestowed 

As the condition of our best advance; 

Tliat man's self-consciousness is given 

Just that he may be restless and go forth 

To find a possible Complete; and thus 

Our very weakness is a source of strength 

If it but drive us toward All-Power; and truth 

We learn through ignorance only; Self, the fiend. 



Al Kadr 

And his twin brother Sin, who scar the face 
Of every pilgrim toward the life beyond, 
Set us the fearful lessons in their school 
By which we first learn purity and love — 
And thus is Death itself but the deep shade 
Cast by the distant, piercing brightness. Life! 

We stood, foreknowing this, at the mid-point 

Of all the stars, and watched them circling round 

Upon one level glory, that there came 

No conflict in their grandly sweeping paths: 

The entire marvel poised amid the abyss 

And turning to include its every plane. 

When that is finished, shall it be the end? 

So thickly set they were, no gaze could pierce 

To the Beyond, where other glories wait; 

We were shut up to this great Self-expression 

Of Him whose word creates and holds it all. 



This world, the place of Force and joyous Fire, 
We hovered near ; it did not then seem long 
For we knew nothing yet of Time and Space ; 
And watched the unfolding preparation made 
To fit the glowing orb for the home of man. 
We saw the tumult stilled, and mighty calm 
Held sway throughout the ages of its rest. 
The dawn of life was near — the hour had come! 

6 



Al Kadr 

We entered each a separate low form 
And, through the uncounted length of ages, strove, 
Unconscious, on a myriad upward planes. 
And struggled on, apart; until we stood 
At last, as Man and Woman, face to face. 
And every thousand years we led a life 
More free from blind and groping selfishness. 
Through many a bitter retrograde relearned 
The lessons of the past, and added more 
To stores of knowledge, slowly gathering. 
Fashioned us bodies from the earth, and all 
It bore to nourish us, each time more fair. 
Our minds sprang into life when first our eyes 
Were clear enough to see that life is Plan 
And Order, interfused with absolute Law. 
Ah ! We were terrified, and cursed the day. 
And in our blindness broke each law we learned, 
Chafed by our pride and driven by our fear. 
To find a something that we might appease 
We sought through Nature and its varied forms. 
And saw a god in every guise it wears. 
And yet in each, frightened, amazed or cheered 
By any one, we felt it was not All. 
Then as our minds could take a wider sweep 
We sought one mighty purpose, one great end 
Throughout the manifold message to our hearts; 
For storm and conflict spoke not otherwise 
Than did the beauty of its quiet moods, 

7 



Al Kadr 

Could we but find the riddle's one great key. 

Untiringly we sought a great First Cause, 

And gave it many names, though none sufficed, 

And tried to learn that man must first submit 

Before he can control. Nature or Self. 

But Nature baffled all our weak attempts; 

Like pitiless tyrant, joying in our pain 

Or too insensate even to hear our cries. 

Across this life the mighty army moved 

Of men and women, each the sport of Fate, 

Plodding a weary one-day's pilgrimage 

That held not joys enough for half its woe. 

This stern Necessity we made our god. 

And worshiped it with bloody sacrifice; 

But when we found that though we held no life 

Too dear to offer in our selfishness. 

And stood, all dumb with terror and despair 

Before that cruel, blank, impersonal Fate, 

There came no answering word from out the void — 

Hiding our misery 'neath a mocking smile. 

Prayer turned to bitter cursing, and we longed for death. 

And in that depth of blind world-weariness. 

Burdened, tormented, by our nothingness. 

There came a voice from heaven, saying " I am God." 

Ah ! how we tried to understand him then ! 

What years and years before we made our own 

Life's greatest lesson till then, that God is Power ! 



Al Kadr 

We came to study self, and dimly saw 

That man, by glad necessity, must have 

The power of choosing wrong, if so he will. 

That he may learn, by suffering, that the wrong 

Is ever a foolish choice, and wisdom lies 

In choosing right, whate'er the moment's cost. 

If ever man shall rise to loftier planes 

Of doing right because he loves that more. 

And so for countless ages — for with Him 

Time is not — God is willing to wait, until 

The only place where he is not supreme 

In all his universe — man's erring heart — 

Shall be given back to him, by man's own choice! 

And thus the wisest thing the all-wise God 

Ordained, was this inexorable law, that sin 

Should bring forth woe to man, and nothing else; 

That sinning, man should learn that sin is Death ! 

Oh God ! and is there then no possible hope ? 
Can nothing satisfy the broken law. 
And reconcile offended majesty? 
In the fullness of time — with God a thousand years 
Are as a watch in the night — a woman bore 
The Word-Made-Flesh, The JVIighty God, The Son 
Of Man, The Prince of Peace, Emmanuel! 
He touched the eyes of the blind and made them see ; 
He broke the prisoner's chain; He bore our griefs, 
Carried our sorrows and was bruised for us, 

9 



Al Kadr 

For our transgression and iniquity; 
Bearing our sins upon the fearful cross 
In his own body — the stainless Son of God! 
And now, at last, might we begin to learn 
Life's greatest lesson of all. that God is Love; 
Unsearchable love, that casts out every fear, 
As God, revealed in Christ, is multiplied 
In all the empty, longing souls of men. 
Once, wholl}', and to all eternity ! 

And having died to conquer death for us 
Christ rose again, and lives that we may live 
In Him, who is the Life, the Truth, the Way. 
The whole wide world and every soul are his; 
Not 3'et, but each new day sees wider flashed 
The glad evangel, every setting sun 
A sold new born. And man has learned new words. 
Salvation, Brother, Sympatln', and more 
That sing their music's comfort into ears 
Shut tight against man's own low cries of pain : 
He lifts his head, eternal Hope is his. 
Slow dawning into many a midnight mind. 
And through the marching millions comes a stir 
Of new, imquenchable life. Yea ! everj^ heart 
Shall yet be given to Him; his well-loved Name 
On every lip shall be a song of joy, 
A shout of triumph, and the sweetest word 
Humanity can frame for gratitude. 

10 



Al Kadr 

See, now, how clear and high shines out for man 

His one great duty, truest liberty, 

And fadeless joy; which every day of all 

The thousands he has passed upon the earth; 

All Nature, questioned long in vain; each thought, 

Each hope and yearning which his life contains; 

Repeats — one glorious word, including all 

That God has taught him in his pilgrimage — 

Not till he learns it may he leave this scene 

To learn yet more of God on other stars — 

That sum of God-given wisdom; that by which 

He most can grow in likeness to his Lord; 

For which, that he should learn it, all this world 

Of pain, despair, contention, woe, and death, 

Is worth liis passing through, yea, many times — 

That duty, joy, and freedom — is Unself ! 

When he has learned it, man at last is fit 

Througli Christ, the Great Unself, to live with God. 

Patience, Humility, Unself, Love, Rest! 

In splendor and majesty, clear on her sight dawns the glory 

of life divine, 
As the sunlight discovers the manifold charm of the newly 

roused world to mine; 
Ah ! soon shall I follow, once more with her soul, as never 

before, to entwine ! 

11 



Al Kadr 

Through ages unnumbered, through joys unconceived, to- 
gether we two shall expand 

In power and beauty, in wisdom and love; by our Father's 
omnipotent hand 

So guided and blest that obedience shall be as complete 
as his perfect command. 

No sin evermore shall have power in our souls, washed per- 
fectly free from its trace; 

No stain of Earth's grief shall I evermore see as I gaze on 
her sanctified face; 

For God, the Triune, makes us free, evermore, in the wealth 
of his infinite grace ! 



19 



The Questioner 

An Aged One there lives, apart 
From men, within a cavern's heart, 
Who knows all wisest lore and art. 
An eager host his cave surround 

And of them, one I hear proclaim — 

" Now listen while I phophesy ! 
A single cell shall multiply 
To thousands, by the single tie 

Of common birth held fast, and bound 
To unity of kind or aim: 

" A single thought I have shall grow 
By steady stages, strong if slow, 
Until the child shall say ' I know ' — 
Of heaven's height, and deep profound. 
And all the soul names with a name. 

" O Wise One, thou who teachest men 
Of things which come within their ken 
By scattered flashes, tell me then 

Which is the child, and thou hast found 
True wisdom, and displayed the same ! " 
13 



The Questioner 

Calmly the Teacher openeth 
His firm old lips, and draweth breath 
As slow as one approaching Death 
At eventide; and earnest sound 

The solemn words that wild hearts tame: — 

Ah proud, where should be luuuble youth ! 
Ah cruel, and thou shouldst have ruth ! 
Ah blind, who seest half a truth ! 

Wouldst thou with Wisdom's wreath be crowned 
As they who Selfhood overcame? 

With sleepless care and constancy 
So train thy thought-child faithfully, 
Symmetrical, and thou shalt see 
(If that thou never shalt astound 
Its purity with cause for shame), 

Thy thought and child expand apace 
In broadening power and richer grace 
Till thou no difference canst trace; 
For they are One, despite all bound 
Which may their infancy enframe. 

Hast then thine answer? Lo, my friend. 
Vain questionings should fade or blend 
In daily duty; leave the end 

To Whom the credit shall redound — 
So shall thy life be free of blame." 
11 



The Questioner 

The learner bowed his humbled head, 
For shame had tinged his cheek with red 
For his presumptuous hardihead. 

And slow his homeward way he wound 
With clearer vision than he came. 

And thinking of the Teacher's word, 
What wonder if his ardor stirred 
To nobler living, that men heard 
Thereafter of a name renowned 

As his wlio sought a wise man's fame? 



15 



Bone and Glass 

Along a quiet country lane 
Where columned elms their branches interlace 
In shadowy etchings on the Summer grass. 
There plods a gray-haired pilgrim, bent with years. 
His face is grave and kindly, full of thought 
And memories of the bygone college days 
Passed in the village whither now his steps 
Are tending. Chief among the friends 
Who shared those days is one whose boyish hope 
Was keen and brilliant, like his own; for each 
Had sought to rind a training for his life 
In those gray halls, and both had found instead 
Crude methods, teachers out of touch 
With what they taught, as well with those who learned. 
Save one. whose name was powerful then 
To bring and hold the learner, and whose fame 
Still shone the brightest in its history. 
The college masters taught as 'twere a task; 
Incompetent to give the high ideals 
Which captivate the young heart, till its lack, 
And stimulate desire to be great 
For truth and greatness sake alone. 
His friend and he. then, rinished there — so runs 
The phrase — their education; to begin 

16 



Bone and Glass 

The weary task of educating self 

When on the class room each had turned the back 

To wander forth alone tlirough paths diverse, 

To the actual worlcl of men. Lessons a few 

Had they been taught; but of the truth of things, 

Whereby the veriest bud can insight give 

Into the whole of God's creation — that 

None liad been present to impart. So comes 

The old Alumnus slowly back again 

To see if, haply, in the lapse of years. 

Some better few had filled professors' chairs 

Left empty by the bunglers of those days. 

The village reached, he hears the bell ring out 

The well-known call to class; and with the crowd 

Of youth, who gaze in some surprise 

To see him join them, enters at the door 

Of a new lecture hall, and finds the room 

Where soon begins a lesson on the laws 

Of health, with specimens and human bones. 

The lecturer, a man of ready speech, 

And what is called good training in his theme, 

Shows first the bones which form a human arm, 

Coming in time to treat the skeleton: — 

A dry enumeration of the bones, 

Their names, their movements ; in an hour 

As much as might have served for many weeks. 

And this huge mass of unenlightened facts 

The students are expected to absorb, 

ir 



Bone and Glass 

Hold fast in memory, and repeat with ease 
(And lamentable ignorance) when required. 
But of the deeper lessons, without Avhich 
The hour were as profitless to soul 
As stumbling through a desert strewn with wrecks 
Of former wanderers, the teacher gives 
No sign that he possessed it ; few of those 
AVho listened, wondering, showed bv ev'n a look 
How they had missed a Something, powerful 
To transform even bones to beauteousness. 
The hour past, again the bell clangs out 
Its rasping summons to new exercise 
Of mental gorging of what starves the mind. 
In pliysics now the lesson shall begin — 
A prism is shown, to ■which a slender ray 
Is brought through darkness, and impinging there 
And passing through, upon the distant screen 
Is showered lavishly in rainbow splendor. 
A second prism then is interposed, 
And scattering rays are caught and recombined, 
Till on the screen appears a glowing dot, 
Just measure of the shutter's pin-hole roimd. 
Between the prisms you gain at any point 
That medley of the spectrum, like a chord 
Of strings and wind, where bass and melody 
Lie at extremes of perfect symphony. 
The whole a beauteous thing because the notes 
Blend, and can spare no least chromatic interval. 

18 



Bone and Glass 

A few more minutes pass while facts, 
As such, and not related, arc doled out; 
The bell hurrahs, and out the students rush. 
The oldest boy of all, too clear recalled 
To student days but little worse than this. 
By witness of the crudeness of it all. 
With deeper gravity of mien departs, 
Expected disappointment on his puzzled face. 

Though from the brow of the hill 
The pages of God's Nature round about 
Lie softly waiting in the Summer haze 
For some true prophet to stand forth and speak: — 
From the grand mountains closing in the scene 
Reading the symbols in the waving grain. 
Whereon sun's kisses alternate with cloud's 
And the feathery plumage gently bows to each: 
Wherein a countless throng of living things 
In mj^riad voice sings out tlie praise of God, 
In tiny trebles, bee's insistent " A," 
Crack-crack of spring-back beetle, metronome 
Marking the tempo for a medley mad 
Of tenuous pipings, croaks and barks and screams 
Almost beyond, or quite, the human ear; 
The necessary whirr of ceaseless work. 
Competing, dying, being born in strife. 
Of smallest nothings of intenscst life. 
Oh ! let some prophet stand and tell to man 

19 



Bone and Glass 

Some jot of all this wisdom, what it means 

In features of the landscape, masses large of rock 

And field, and quiet silver waterway 

Stringing the landscape's emeralds with its thread — 

As well as in the smallest clod of earth 

The foot so idly kicks in crossing field, 

Large for all that to many an organism 

With power's proportion far exceeding yours. 

Of which, in form and habit, food and length of life. 

Yea ! work accomplished for the good of you 

And thousands such, you know not one small part ! 

Musing half sadly thus, the wanderer turns 
And seeks the shelter of a neighboring inn; 
There sits him down and writes his distant friend 
A full account of the day's happenings. 
" Ah me, my brother, well for your own peace 
You could not come, as I, to view again 
The place they failed to educate us at ! 
Two lectures have I heard, the one on bones. 
The other on the prism and its power. 
Think you they taught the lesson, then. 
Of bone and beam ? Bah ! in a fashion, yes ; 
But their true beauty no one taught, or saw 
I verily believe! For friendship's sake 
Let me now supplement each mis-spent hour 
By just reminding you in case of each 
Of one deep lesson, one small bit of truth, 

20 



Bone and Glass 

Which each contained for whoso would to see. 
Take then the skeleton — they hung one up — 
And let the arm bones drop to side at will. 
And if the joints are copied properly 
After the normal, tell me what you see. 
Do not the arms roll strongly in 
Toward body's middle line, the palms turned in? 
What then the meaning of the attitude? 
Learn from the opposite. What means the palm 
Turned out, extending in strong sweep 
From me to other human beings and the world? 
Is it not scorn and loathing, or at least 
A summons to stand back? What gesture, pray. 
Explains to beggar's importunity. 
People and things we hate, or at the best 
Feel naught and care naught for, our purposes 
Of leaving them alone, putting behind 
And leaving there the dis-agreeable ? 
But a child, frightened, hurries to our arms 
And they fold quickly round him to defend 
And comfort. Palm and inner side of arm 
Are warm and soft: with them we hold to breast 
And cherish with caresses what we love — 
The outer side ne'er enters an embrace. 
Now is it fitting that there should be wrought 
Deep in our body's framework just this thought 
Expressive of our need of sympathy. 
Our hunger for some one to hold and love 

31 



Bone and Glass 

Close to the heart? Ah, when the whole Law's force 

Can crystallize to such a gem as this, 

' Love one another,' 'tis not hard to keep 

When bone and muscle, nerve and throbbing heart 

Are so compounded as to express the need 

In each of j ust this close enfolding love ! 

When the Creator says ' O feeble child, 

My name and nature are but Love, and thou 

Art imaged after me ' — shall we not look, 

Nor be surprised at finding, that our very bones 

Creation's unity so demonstrate? 

' The prism's lesson next. O'er this dark life 
The prism Birth diverges souls from God. 
The one has powers and qualities as true 
As doth his neighbor; each possesses, though, 
A Something we call individual 
Which saves his being either me, or you. 
And makes him ever wholly he-himself : 
Just as a needle point on spectrum field 
Divides two colors anywhere 'tis placed. 
Each is itself by millionth part of wave. 
And where the needle is they separate. 
Nay, needle point is far too coarse; we'll say 
Use something finer, many hundred times. 
And still it splits two different lengths of wave. 
But many though the shades and tinges be 
Not more are they than many kinds of men: 



Bone and Glass 

Eacli close resembling some other man. 
Each having this in common with all others 
That the same prism scattered all, and yet 
Each different — easier to see in man than hue. 
As soul perceptions are more delicate 
Than retina's. Each is himself alone ! 
I even see a further parallel: 
At either side the spectrum lies the dark. 
Void, think you ? Nay ! No less surcharged 
With force and meaning that 'tis felt, not seen. 
The one brings heat, the other chemic force. 
The one is hot as red or orange glow 
In prism pattern; from these darker rays 
Do plants and animals, and man himself, 
With all the engines of man's hand, 
Winds that sing hymns across the mountain peaks 
Or dash the vessel 'gainst the ocean current, 
Another world phenomenon of heat — 
Upon these rays activities depend 
Beyond my numbering. And the other lot 
Supply the tints of flower and leaf. 
Plumage of bird, blush of the healthy cheek. 
And colors countless ainong growing things. 
Thus, so to roughly sum it up, gives force 
The one dark end, the other one adorns. 
I could have drawn a parallel, I fear. 
Between dark ends and crime and passion's power. 
But will not. Rather let me hurry on 

23 



Bone and Glass 

Having suggested what one prism taught, 

Or could have taught, to give the lesson of two. 

Birth, then, on Life's dark screen has cast 

A multifarious group of different rays. 

What now can recombine them, play the part 

Of the second prism, till the pure white light 

Of God is reached again.'' It seems me thus: 

There needs a Something, powerful beyond 

All mortal striving, which shall give each part 

Of all this scattered, mixed, confused array 

Of human souls, its due importance; bring 

Colors diverse and antithetical 

By wisest order to their harmonies 

Again ; and this I " Something " call 

Must be so potent as to affect mankind 

In farthest hidden fragment for all time ! 

What can? you cry. Wliy, who but God Himself? 

There was the Death, in person of the Son, 

Could recombine all human elements 

Into God's light, the fit-for-praising-Him ! 

Has then the bit of glass which splits the light. 
As well as human bone, so quaintly stamped 
With record of live muscle-hold and play. 
Lessons 'twere well to learn; of which a part 
Is indicated? Had the college then 
Some wisest hand to put them side by side 
And teach the highest lesson given by each, 

24 



Bone and Glass 

The not to be discovered till bone and glass 
Lie side by side, then were it true indeed 
That here could education, haply, one complete ! 

As for the rest, they keep the walks from weeds 

Much as in olden time, while planting them 

In brain of boys. For mark you; on the lawn 

A shoot of graceful grass is valued much 

And dignified by name of grass; let find 

Another bunch upon the path's clear space 

And, though you know it at a glance, 

'Tis called a weed and hoed away apace. 

From which I learn that truth misplaced becomes 

Or lie or impudence, and bravery 

Foolhardiness, and chasteness prudery: 

And reason that a clump of excellent facts 

Taken from all that they belong to, nothing less 

Than God's wide Universe, of course, and sown 

In some young mind not properly prepared, 

Are trodden under foot or scraped away. 

If truly they take root at all; or else, 

Subject to force of evil influence. 

Bring poison forth instead of food for soul. 

Enough ! I end my letter and go hence 
With sadder heart than coming. Yet indeed 
Not without hope that some of all the youth 
Who fail while here to gain the wisdom sought. 
May, after leaving, teach it to themselves, 

25 



Bone and Glass 

As you and I have had to do. Perhaps 

Thej^ would not value it if taught it here, 

Not valuing truth, nor yet contrasting it 

With real life's error, sorrow, strife and fraud 

And bitter yearning. And perhaps for each 

Is needed personal experience 

Of this, and else much you and I know well. 

And yet, standing almost at close of life, we feel 

That could we make another's, really his. 

What we have learned in traveling thus far, 

Perhaps his feet held straighter course than ours. 

Avoiding mire and useless wandering. 

P«*i»1iian<!, thoufBih, while this sympathy 

Is naturally present with the old, we each 

Must have our own tint polished bright in strife 

With error, and no other soul can lend 

Color of its own, obtained by like success. 

The world seems ordered thus. Adieu, with love. 



36 



Sympathy 

I REMEMBER, as a child^ standing by the heaving sea, 

Drearily ; 
Watching, wondering, as 'twould flow. 

Come and go. 
Grasping, gnawing, at the beach, impetuous. 

Marvelous ; — 
Always leaving me a message as in pain, 

Back again 
And baffled, fled the billows ponderous 

And dolorous. 

Overhead in shady mass with rounded corners, soft clouds lay 

White and gray. 
Seeming now to float and now to stand; 

While the sand 
Led the eye, either side, along the beach. 

In lessening reach. 
To the distant junction, either side. 

Of cloud and tide. 
To where mingled in half-light 

Day and night. 
27 



Sympathy 

And the arrows of the rain gently pierced the broad sea's 
breast. 

In unrest 
Lifting its white hands to me. 

As to see 
Could I tell the reason why 

It and I 
In our deep soul's tides must ever flow 

Forth in woe 
Through and o'er the world (this man's fate 

First and late). 

And the heavy blows of the wave crashed and craunched 
along the shore 

With a roar, 
As to try and pass their bound; 

While the ground 
Shook and murmured with the strife 

Of their life. 
So the oceans of man's soul pound and rage 

Every age, 
In his vain and piteous longing all to scan 

Of God and man. 

Wearied in their useless struggle, fell the impatient billows 
back; 

And the wrack 
Of huge clouds, now grown swart, 
Split apart, 
38 



Sympathy 

And the loving sunbeams volumed through 

To subdue. 
All the tear drops dangling from the stunted trees, 

Ere the breeze 
Dried them in the sand, in twinklings bright 

Greeted the light. 

I, the child, who watched it all, in a questing, wondering 
wise. 

With filling eyes — 
The tear drops left of storm and rain 

In my brain. 
Called forth in childish pity^ it may be. 

For the sea — 
With a new and sober joy went my way. 

For that day 
To enter into Nature and with her be one, 

I had begun ! 



The Disciples of Epicurus 

Three travelers to Jove's high altar, 

Tvpo from the East, the other from the West, 
Push ever onward, knowing naught of rest. 
With many a crude emotion in the breast, 

And steps that never falter. 

There cometh one; almost inaudibly 

He rendereth thanks for pleasure once enjoyed; 
Complaineth, louder voiced^ how all hath cloyed 
Full many a year; crying to be destroyed 

If pleasure-stript his life be. 

Another, sad resentment voicing, 

Declareth " Life is but a monstrous curse ! 

What griefs I've known my tongue can not rehearse ! 

If thou be God, unless than devils worse. 

Give one on earth rejoicing! " 

The third, his countenance afire 

With earnest purpose, and a man's proud might 
Of muscle swelling as the will shall write 
In lurid script athwart his mind's midnight, 

And tortured by desire — 

30 



The Disciples of Epicurus 

Standing, he prayeth, " Jove the Highest, 
The King of Wisdom, whom all venerate! 
Strong am I, earnest, and insatiate; 
Teach me somewhat to do of good or great 

Before I hear, ' Thou diest.' " 

They pause — from out the gloom that steepeth 
The place in shadows, mystic, comfortless, 
Cometh an echo fraught with weariness 
And sickening poison for a mind's distress — 

" Awake Him not — He sleepeth." 

Wrath and disgust and sad soul outcries ! 

" Back to our own," they shout, " as best we may ! 
Hope is a lie, and quickly flieth day ! 

We too henceforth, as wise men said, shall say 
Enjoy! There is naught else wise! " 



31 



"Wragg is in Custody." 

" Who is to blame? " 

Ah ! not for us the question ; 
As taking to ourselves so great a meed 
Of righteousness as would empower to judge 
A suffering, sinful, outraged fellow mortal, 
Ev'n though the murderess of her firstborn babe ! 
Ah ! not for us to put such questioning. 
One to another, and then hale him forth 
Whose blame it is, that we adjudge how much 
And of what kind shall be his punishment! 
Who e'er has been so wise that he could say — 
This, the most glaring fault of all the scale 
Of man's iniquity, from passion's furnace heat 
To the dark force of hidden selfish crime. 
Through all the varying shades of open sin 
And public-pardoned fashionable folly — ■ 
This worst shall men unite to utterly condemn ! 
And they that suffer here its cruel weight. 
Knowing hell's tortures 'mid the crowd of men. 
Sinful as they in less obnoxious ways, 
Shall adults execrate and children stone; 
While he that shifts woe to another's back 
Shall be o'erlooked as much the cleverer. 
33 



" Wragg is in Custody " 

Know ye yon hilly moor^ whose desert space 

Extending wide, and noisome crevices. 

No healthy man endures in day's full glare? 

Know ye its horror when dank morning mists 

No comfort bring to a mind as bare of hope 

As are its hillocks ? In such cold half-light 

Come with me, friend, and watch a piteous scene. 

Two shapeless forms, scant clad, the eye discerns. 

One is a woman prone upon the earth; 

All quiet she, save for a restless heave 

Left from the harsh recoil of the avalanche 

That broke her heart and swept her life of joy 

In one wild gathering anguish. Come more near. 

" She does not suffer now? " Ask of the rock 

O'er which the iceberg's graving tool has dragged, 

In picture-writing still intelligible 

Recording deep its slow relentless force. 

If it knows pain; 'twill point you to the scars 

The ages brought it as it turned to stone. 

The other form is still. Its tiny curves 

Distorted by its small life's passionate end — ■ 

" How was it done? Is this the mother's woe? " 

About its neck discolored pressure lines 

Are matched by fingers that could once caress ; 

And they, the servants of disordered will. 

Have crushed the life they should have died to save. 

" Whose is the blame." 

Come, we have seen enough. 
33 



*' Wragg is in Custody " 

Back to the town that now unconscious lies 
Warm 'gainst the night that froze her pity so. 

The noon has come^ and men have time to stop 

And give the word about their business, 

And hear their neighbor's plaint he grows not rich, 

With many an explanation why 'tis thus. 

A group of men goes by, a needless crowd 

To lead one helpless form all careless where. 

" Say, can't ye help her carry her sick babe ? " 

What matters that small added burden, when her load 

So self-imposed, so desperate, knows no bounds ? 

" The child's not sick, my friend, 'tis dead; 

She did it." " What! She's murdered her own child? 

Neighbors, come hither, quick ! They say " — And so 

The swelling crowd moves on. Wragg is in custody ! 

(See Arnold's Function of Criticism.) 



S4 



On the Beach 

The scene: Low hills of white-hot s.aiid, 
Whence quivers up the overcharge 
Of heat, in waves of parching force 
That cease not till the day's decline 
Assuage their fierceness in night's dew. 
Hills partly covered with the growth 
Of thorny trees, their limbs awry; 
And yellow, ugly clumps of grass 
That hide no tiny minstrelsy 
Such as one hears in fertile meads. 
Beyond, a strip of naked sand 
Hard pounded by recurring storms. 
And then a line of sullen wave 
That breaks in fringe monotonous; 
And muttering, awaits the strength 
Of tempest wind to overwhelm 
The bleakness drear afresh, and turn 
Its long expanse to deader waste. 

The viewer: One whose earnest youth 
Is battling with its untrained force; 
Outwearied by temptations hot 
35 



On the Beach 

And blasting as the steady glare 

Of sun on sand, and memories 

Of unsuccessful effort, bare 

As sun-scorched sand of good results. 

His hand supports the gun, wherewitli 

He lately sought to satisfy 

That lowest impulse of man's mind, 

The savage instinct to destroy; 

Directed 'gainst the timid deer, 

Despite its conscious cruelty. 

The tempter: One whose soft warm neck 

Is maddening in its loveliness, 

Because it so insists to him 

Of flesh, and fleshly intercourse; 

And she so wilfully spreads snares 

To sacrifice his nobleness 

To passing pleasure, hers and his, 

That aching hours of remorse 

Shall not ierase from memory. 

The impulse: Just to meet half way 
Temptation, simply that she tempts*, 
And so give o'er the endless strife 
'Twixt soul and body, and decide 
The never-ending contest there, 
And reconcile his life's ideal 
With desert horror like the scene; 



On the Beach 

And with this worst decision, fall 

Back the long way he'd climbed so far 

In daily striving — knowing now 

That all before of loneliness 

Could not compare witli coming woe. 

For that was ever out of sin 

Toward purer life; and this should be 

Thenceforth defiled with hopeless guilt 

And weakening love of nobleness; 

Till ruin closed the history. 

The crisis: This — he could not meet 
And overcome such tempting lures 
And send her back with strength from him 
To curb her own and help his powers. 
He rightly judged her now beyond 
All purer pleading he might bring 
To suffer him to go his way 
Unstained. Or else he felt how weak 
Was his own mind to harbor then 
Enticement passing power to stem, 
And at the same time, truest love 
Which should deny the thing desired; 
The one had entrance gained, and filled 
A nature full enough without 
This newer load; and there appeared 
But two ways open: one, to yield. 
And with the yielding forfeit heaven, 
3T 



On the Beach 

Inviting hellish fire for life 
Thereafter, till life sank in Hell — 
The other: Quick, the barrel's length 
Has parted witch and heart entrapped; 
And as the lead her white breast tears, 
The tempter dies, temptation ends. 
No moment now for mad regret ! 
That he had felt in keenest sting 
As he decided what to do. 
And having done as best he knew. 
One kiss he prints, forgiving her. 
Upon the wounded flesh; and then 
Quick follows whither she has gone — 
Into the presence of the God 
That let them tempt each other thus. 

Ah me ! Why tell the dreadful tale, 
While birds of prey are hurrying down 
To mingle flesh that would not meet 
While still alive, with carrion 
And gritty pebbles in their crops ! 
I think far better this than that, 
If they indeed could not withstand. 
I also think that had they tried 
They could have found escape — but then 
She would not try. At any rate, 
God judges them, not you and I. 



38 



Kate or Catherine? 

The many things that led thereto 
You need not know. 
This scene, the drama's last, I show 
That in like case, if ever, you may do 
Like battle, and unscathed go. 

An early April evening, bright 

With stars, whose fire 

Was kindling with the strong desire 

Of wakening Spring, comes to my mind this night 

In memories that never tire. 

For on that evening, she and I 

Did part on earth. 

For though the old home of her birth 

Still holds her, we may not again come nigh 

To ease, as then, our spirit's dearth. 

She was another's wife when first 
We met. No love 
She gave him. She, so far above 
All baseness, love a fiend whose cruel thirst 
Was vulture's for a wounded dove? 
39 



Kate or Catherine? 

How can I tell the tale ? What need 
The steps to tell 

By which we both trod nearer Hell — 
The steady growth of passionate love-seed 
To poisonous fruitage, sweet and fell? 

Suffice that on that night I came 

To house, and (where 

My foot ne'er yet had been) the stair 

Which led to her own room; and tongues of flame 

Glanced to my heart from eyes and hair! 

I paused and said; "One moment, Kate! 
This is not kind! 

With eager longing deaf and blind 
To right of law, as to another's hate, 
I leave you — or — you're lost, I find ! 

For in short space of time, my strength 

Of yearning sweet 

Will know one object only; fleet 

The days then fast, or drag a lingering length, 

They bring you woes I can't repeat. 

Forgive this wild avowal — best 
That I should say 
What from another turned away 
Your friendship." On her glorious heaving breast 
Her head drooped as she whispered " Stay." 
40 



Kate or Catherine? 

The struggle lasted long. All me ! 

It hurts me yet 

In triumph mingled with regret — 

With body's scorn for soul's glad victory — 

In pictures I can ne'er forget! 

But when, grown calm, I turned ; in fears 

That I had gained 

But half a conquest, and remained 

The harder, to gain hers; through scalding tears 

I saw sad eyes, and love restrained. 

No formal leave we took; no word 

Or clasp of hand 

She gave me. I could understand 

Her life's long gratitude without; nor have I heard 

Directly since I left that land. 

I merely said on leaving, " Call 

Me Alf no more. 

But Alfred, wise in counsel; or 

Yourself call Kate, but Catherine, best of all 

For you, the pure as ne'er before." 

And now I think in quiet times 
What if still " Kate" ? 
No ! I won't meet your friend ! I hate 
His vicious leer! He sets me writing rhymes! 
Yes, he's the man, the reprobate ! 
41 



" In Search of a Word " 

The first violins are muted, 
And under them, stealing along, 
A lovely lilt in the celli 
Sings me an eerie song. 
It tells of the human yearning 
To utter the human soul; 
Wide as the open prairie 
To spread the close shut scroll, 
In the glare of day; as wide 
As Arctic snow plain, wide 
As sky and ocean, that all 
Might once be fitly told. 
Might once be read and known. 
It sobs that it can not tell me. 
It sighs with effort vain; 
And through it I hear the baflBed moan 
Of the Maker's heart in pain. 
What speech so fit as music 
To say what no word can — 
What strings and wind in vain attempt! 
In vain the soul woidd sing itself 
Through wind and strings ; and yet I find 
42 



" In Search of a Word " 

Good cause for patience till there come 

The day when words are dumb, 

When songs are stilled, the soul 

Content that it may feel 

The utmost in its power 

Nor suffer death; and all it knows, 

And feels, can tell at last 

In perfect speech to perfect souls — 

Till then, there's music ; play for me ! 



43 



The Second Rhapsody 

With ponderous rhythm and thought portentous 

Hear the theme ! 
Voices of warriors, strong passions that have rent us. 

As in a dream returned; 
Thought jostling thought, in keenest rapture, 

With suffering burned 
As with a brand on each ! in highest tone 
Rushing as whirlwinds on; the while the moan 
Of many a soul in patient yearning, 
A-hungered, toward fancied haven turning, 
With piteous cry — " Express my woe 
Or lighten it ! " — How massive go 
The chords; how fierce, intense the strings 
Uniting in a scream of shrill despair ! 
Quivers the listening air and sobs in sympathy. 

Forth breaks again the storm 
And louder wails again the soul in torture's rack. 
As it, with one long straining effort. 

Unappeased — falls back ! 



44 



The Twelfth Rhapsody 

The call to arms ! The rush of many feet ! 
Sounds^ dull and fateful on the frozen ground ! 
The rattling crash; 
The arrow's whistle^ hateful; 
The shout of triumph and the shriek for aid; 
Woe-laden voice of him who bids farewell 
To earthy while bygone memories rise and swell 
Of how they love at home 
And of the time when soft the evening hymn 
Rose in the twilight by the evening fire — and all around 
The sulphur smoke and gasping breath; 
The high and loud-yelled order, indistinct, but hasten- 
ing Death 
Already overtasked, and bidding his victims haste 
To meet him; scarcely traced 
Amid the din and reek, the banner's flutter — 
All sounds that mutter, groan, exult, implore, lament, 
Together blent, in Woe ! 

So through my soul these striving chords do go, 
Jarring my nerves with stories of men's lives. 

Men's longings, struggles, suff'erings — 
And piteous overthrow ! 
45 



Philharmonic 

A FEW wild notes of tuning strings. 

And soft notes from the wood-wind, vague 
As children's distant voices — a pause, that brings 

Our thoughts and senses to their keenest ; then 
The graceful waving of the Leader's wand — 

And softly sweet, one cello's whispering tone, 
Like stillness audible, falls on the ear; 

I close my eyes to listen, for my Joy is here ! 
The theme is given out in measured, resonant tone 

Like water dripping from a mossy stone 
Into the pool beneath, in rhythm irregular. 

Again a pause — and hush ! in higher key 
The violins are answering, dreamily; 

As if their souls had newly wakened been 
From visions of that wondrous time, long gone, 

When instrument and Master were but One — 
Each breathing through the other passionate thought. 

When makers could, by simple finger touch. 
Discern right well that only such, and such. 

Must be the woods to form the perfect whole ; 
This bit of stick to make the loving soul, 

46 



Philharmonic 

This the curved body, fashioned cunningly. 
And that the tapering neck or keyboard be. 

And now the music throbs and cries in pain 
While flute and clarion tell the theme again. 

The bows in equal movement like swift shuttles fly, 
Weaving the air with threads of melody 

Into a tissue of pure harmony. 
With modulation rich and various shade 

Are all my troubled thoughts in slumber laid. 
The crash of brass, the oboe's mournful strain. 

The quivering drums, the stories in the strings. 
All blend and summon me to pure endeavor: 

Ah ! I could listen thus, content, forever ! 

'Tis almost over now: the wandering strains combine 

Or seek by diff"erent paths one common chord — 
A minor seventh, full of sad lament; 

The theme again, in major gladness scored; 
One long sweet dominant,— and the end is come ! 

The Leader lays aside his wand; he, and the men 
Wlio with him made such music, leave us, dumb 

With pure delight ; steal softly forth as loath to stir 
The veil of beauty o'er our spirits laid; 

And quietly we follow, saying naught. 
For words are useless in such ecstacy. 

The lamps go out, the spacious hall grows still 
While yet the glad sound waves the building fill, 

47 



Philharmonic 

Pulsing against the portals as if out they'd flee 
To make some grief -bowed mortal live more happily. 

They are not lost^ though seeming prisoned there; 
We take them in us through the evening air ; 

And^ if we've heard aright, we thenceforth try 
To fill each other's lives with loving charity. 

For this was Music given to man — 
To expect Pain's discords, through his life's short span, 

When he goes hence, beyond the twilight skies, 
To be resolved in wondrous perfect wise; 

And meanwhile, that upon his way he lack not cheer, 
To give some beauteous foretaste of it, even here. 



48 



" To Die— to Sleep " 

Where mavis sings and the swift leverets play, 
There make my bed. 
With quivering starlight and the azure sky 
My canopy, 
When I am dead. 



But thou, O Worldling, go thy selfish way. 
For on my head 
Thou pouredst shame and cruelty in days gone by. 
And though I draw no vengeful breath, 
I would all quiet lie 
In death. 



There when the storms of Winter make the landscape gray. 
The flowers, dead. 
Shall deck me warmly from the snow and sleet 
And bitter winds that whistle by — 
Snow, wind, and sleet 
Cold as thy pity. 
And my winding sheet. 
49 



" To Die— to Sleep " 

And through the lengthening shadows of the Summer day. 
The blue harebell 
Shall ring above my grave in tender voice 
Its perfumed knell; 
And all the gentle creatures I have loved, rejoice 
I rest so well. 



£0 



Charasang 
1 

Through the untrodden desert of my woe, 
Compassed by pain, my halting footsteps go. 
Torture of body, racking ceaselessly 
My tight-stretched nerves, and misery 
Of mind that knows no hope, is mine. 
Whichever way my weary steps incline 
They bring me ever to more noxious air; 
My lungs refuse to breathe, and the hot glare 
Of Sin's mad gaze upon my aching soul, 
The pestilential fever winds, that stole 
So lately from the bottomless morass 
Of evil, close at hand on either side, the mass 
Of unclean spirits blocking up my way 
And threatening or enticing that I grow as they 
Polluted, lost to sense of shame and right- 
Close smartingly upon my parching sight, 
And fill me with such new and awful pain 
That every fibre in me quivers again. 
Thick and relentless, the black cloud of doubt 
Each healthy thought from my mind's view shuts out — 

Beloved, I were lost indeed, but for one wish 
That I have safely kept, and safe will keep; 'tis this. 
That I be led at last to thy love's oasis ! 

51 



Charasang 

2 

I too have suffered in the days gone by. 

With mien unclianged, with never a tear or sigh, 

But in a passion of strong agony 

Have clenched my hands and borne it, 

Though the nails left each its impress 

In the quivering flesh. For as men scorn it 

To see another yield to pain, " They shall not know," 

I hourly told myself, " my heart's great grief." Best so; 

For how could any understand or sympathize ? 

And I did fear to meet the world's too curious eyes ! 

But of all griefs, all cares, all withering woes, 
Which Fate deals out to man in heavy blows. 
This latest grief no ray of comfort knows ; 
This heavy woful burden is of all the worst; 
This care is desperate — keeping me athirst, 
Ahungered for — I know not what! Relief 
Comes not; nor can it come through after years, 
For hopeless, heartless, caring not what chance 
May have in store for me, the bitter tears 
Refuse to flow, and all unhappy, I 
Must go my way in sorrow till I die! 

Death! Shall I fear it, when it gives me thee? 
Through our short happy life together did we see 
All our desires fulfilled.^ Did we not feel 
That there was none on earth that could reveal 

52 



Charasang 

The secret of becoming ever, wholly One? 

And failing that, was Love's Ideal won ? 

No ! When my hands shall fade through cold degree 

To non-existence, and there steadily 

Creeps toward my heart a slowly shuddering chill; 

^Vhen eyes are glazing, lungs forget to fill, 

And friends are venturing a louder voice — 

Through the last struggle I shall most rejoice 

That this crude barrier between our soul 

Is being torn to let Myself escape ! 

What wonder that it hurts, seeing the whole 

Of flesh so intimately serves to drape 

The spirit's outlines; while a life is spent 

That they be more intensely intermixed and blent! 

So, when the body suffers all it can. 

And from that moment I no more am man. 

Waking, my soul shall first be 'ware of thee — 

And then of utter rest ! Then lead thou me 

Unto the God thou'st known so long and well. 

That we, together, One, more fitly tell 

Our love and gratitude than ever we could do 

While still on earth, and while so, always two ! 

Come Death, O Friend I long for, and release 
My struggling spirit to that rest and peace 
I dream of ! Give Thou patience. Lord, that I 
Until Thy will be finished, may not wish to die! 

53 



Cremation 

Oh^ give me to the flames when from my frame 
There goeth forth this breath that made me man, 
Leaving but matter. Give ye then this form 
Which men have loved, and loathed, as Me 
Unto that kindliest element which draws its being 
From solar fires, as I have mine. And then 
Scatter the ashes on some river's breast, still-flowing 
And noble, as it bears its course to the sea, 
And it shall gently lay them to their rest 
Deep in unfathomed niche of Ocean's floor. 
While the gaseous elements rise ever higher, 
Blown of the winds, to roam the universe 
Free as my soul to all eternity. 
And there perchance shall they be purified 
From thought of what has been — the half-charred coal 
Of sullen selfishness, and leaping fiery flame 
Wherewith my passion burned. And at that day 
When ghostly forms assemble, to give account. 
And hear adjudged their lives, shall I be found 
Fit to don immortality, purged from all dross. 
And saved for Blessedness — ev'n as by Fire ! 

54 



Lethe 

Before I drink^ what most, of all I've known, 

Or been, or had. 
Do I desire the strongest to forget? 

From birth my life was sad, 

Made up of disappointments, yet 
Mere pain, and loss and grief came not to me alone. 

Youth's hope and promise, withered flowers; health 

And friends, and fame. 
Lost, one or all — what soul is hid so safe 

Its tale is not the same? 

Long since for me these failed to chafe. 
Nor e'er had brought me here in age to quaff by stealth. 

Life at its highest, love both deep and pure 

I offered her — 
Too narrow, shallow, self-full she to know 

The worth it would confer 

On lives imperfect, progress slow 
Till then, needing but Love to make all triumphs sure. 



Lethe 

Since then my bitter life more bitter still 
Becomes, and nought 
Of joy can e'er be mine, and hope is dead. 

Too many years I've wrought, 

The slave of Love; now, hither fled, 
I may blot out the eyes I see, go where I will. 

One wish alone is mine; 'tis strenuous — this — 

Let memory cease ! 
Blind be the eyes that send their withering light 

To rob my soul of peace ! 

Love, spurned for duty, proved such blight. 
Could I forget her glorious haunting gaze, 'twere bliss ! 

At last I fill my beaker with the rest — 

O Sorrow's Balm ! 
What quiet shall be mine these last few years, 

Soul-tempest soothed and calm ! — 

Ah no ! I dare not drink it ! Fears 
My soul to lose its All, in hopes of being blest ! 



56 



De Mortuis 

My friend is dead! God let my grief find rest! 
Where is he buried? Here within my breast, 
His grave with many a perfumed memory drest. 

Like flowers, they too must slowly droop and fade; 
Yet mid rare beauty has his grave been made; 
He should sleep well, so tenderly he's laid. 

The grace of youthful ardor, shared, in sooth. 
Like all the eager powers that swayed our youth, 
And love of all things high, and thirst for truth — 

The glimmer of possible Unself, and all 

We yet should do to bless the world, the thrall 

Of mighty Music — these do deck his pall. 

And many another garland near his head 
I laid, the while a sorrowing prayer I said, 
Forgetting all offence, now he was dead. 

Where is he buried } Nay ! He lives, ev'n yet — 
But when I call no answering word I get — 
We've drifted out of hail, and the sun is set! 
5T 



De Mortuis 

The whole wide world of thought shall interpose 
Ere we again begin to approach — who knows 
That each shall keep his strength as on he goes? 

Death holds a soul entangled in a snare! 
Oh, it is worse than dying, than despair — 
For the corpse lives, and seems not ev'n to care! 



Hope lingers, sighing, by the death-stream broad ; 
But once it whispered low, in accents awed, 
"There is a resurrection." Yea! Thank God! 



58 



Madonna di San Sisto 

FoRTHGAziNG Oil the world and Thy gTcat mission; 

Held tight to the breast, returning no embrace; 
Already mingle in Thy beauteous face 
The human need and the divine prevision, 
Thou perfect Babe ! Thy mother's heart must break 
With coming trial, the while her glorious eyes 
Consent to duty, and dread the sacrifice. 
Oh grant that I all earthliness forsake, 
Inspired by sight of Godhead so sublime, 

And worship in Thy light through life to tli' end ; 
Eternity in Thy blest radiance spend. 
Perfect from thought of earth, from stain of time; 
My hope upon Thy faith-seen beauty stayed, 
So nobly here foreshadowed and portrayed ! 



59 



To Mark Hopkins 

The weary muse hath sung in olden days 

Full many a doughty warrior and his deed ; 
The god-born hero, helping men in need; 
Gray hairs and childhood, given to the blaze 
Of Persecution's fire. Thy sweet voice raise, 

O Heavenborn ! now, to sing of one whose dole 
Of strength and wisdom to the hungrj^ soul 
So helped to clear from countless minds the haze 
Of Self and Sin, that but obscured the rays 

Of dawning manhood ! Let thy hand's sure flight 
Through coming years to gratitude incite 
With resonant strings; that speed through all the ways 
Man treads on earth, his well-loved name; and blend 
No notes unworthy of a young man's friend ! 



60 



Togo Heihachiro 

Banzai ! Brave Admiral ! Thy mightj^ dead 
Have favored Dai Nippon's expanding fame, 
That all the lands thy victory acclaim 
And search through history for deeds of dread 
To parallel with thine. The bullet sped 
Against the terror of an empty name 
Has sunk a navy, doubled former shame, 
And saved a nation and a world ! Thou'rt bred 
A hero for thy land's supremest need. 
From hidden perils to assure release, 

And overwhelm a proud and weakly Czar ! 
Great Kwannon bless thee in thine honored peace, 
As fearful Shaka gave the victor's meed 
In battle more renowned than Trafalgar ! 



61 



A National Hymn 

Bid now tlie East, whose surges roar 

Hoarse welcome to the dawning day; 
And Western Ocean's peaceful shore 

That takes the parting sun's last ray; 
And Gulf, whose waves in dancing white 

Answer the ripening cotton field; 
With Northern Mighty Lakes — unite 

Columbia fitting praise to yield ! 

Our Native Land ! What noble pride 

Stirs loyal hearts at thy dear name! 
Thy glories through all time abide: 

We ask no other than thy fame ! 
Better than wealth for man's support. 

Better than arms for man's defence, 
The love for man which thou hast taught 

The world in peaceful eminence! 

We sing thy name, the wide world o'er 
That calls the oppressed of other lands; 

We sing thy harvest's bounteous store 
For honest work of honest hands; 
63 



A National Hymn 

Quick to our eyes the warm tears spring 
When thy dear flag on high appears; 

And with a calmer joy we sing 
Thy victories that cost no tears. 

Exalt, my Brother, clear and strong, 

The God of Nations, throned above. 
To countless thousands shall belong 

Our glorious land, our patriot's love! 
All strife and envy from this hour 

Be buried deep, as hand in hand, 
We pledge our every loyal power 

For God, for Home, and Native Land! 



Indian Love Song 

As fall the purple shadows 

Like fruit from the viue of day, 

Down from the bright stars, twinkling 

Like yellow bees at play, 

I take canoe and paddle 

Where the sleeping waters sway; 

Love bids me rise and seek thee 

And quickly I obey. 

Thy lips are the leaves of the maple, 
By Autumn breezes fanned; 
Thy voice is the cooing wood dove's, 
And soft as moss thy hand; 
Thine eyes, like sparks of fire 
Both passionate and bland, 
Have kindled a love within me 
That I can not understand. 

It burns as a raging fever 
And takes my strength away ; 
I fear the Manitou no more. 
To thee alone I pray. 
For thee I pine and wither 
Like leaves in the heat of day; 
Come to me, Love, like the south wind. 
And coming, ever stay ! 
64 



At the Cave's Mouth 

[F7-om the Koran.] 

LET me weave ! 
Into the cave he's run, 
Torn, hunted and thin, 
Why — I can't conceive. 
(Tighten the thread as I spin). 
Had he come slow, in fun 

He might have brushed me aside, 

Killed me, perhaps — what then? 

His need is plain — all haste! 

Hither the others ride. 

Now, when this last one's placed — 

Tlierc, let me try it again — 

'Tis done ! not the prettiest net 

I've spun in my time; no doubt 

Too many crossings forgot; 

'Tis weak here and there, and yet. 

Though a bee could break its way out, 

'Twill do for the time and the spot: 

1 can eat it and spin it again. 
O yes ! you others can peer — 

" The spider's web over the mouth ; 
Look, he isn't in tliere ! " O you men! 
Hurry, do, off to the south. 
Allah sent him, and saves him, here ! 
65 



The Quail's Note 

An ! Bob White ! 
Wilt come to me? 
The morning; dew hangs in the tangled stalks 
Of bending grass, so cool and sweet; 
Thy bashful feet 
Wander through flowery walks 
In search of me. 
And so I stand and call, and call, 
Bob White! 
Wilt come to me ? 
My spots and bars of milk and brown 
Are finer in thine eyes than all 
That call Bob White ! 
And o'er the breezy down 
Our wings shall bear us swift 
Where we have chosen to build 
In safety, under leaves where drift 
Cool sliadows laced with sunlight; 
Hours filled 
With the Spring's love await us there 
Bob White! 
66 



The Quail's Note 

Wilt come to me? 
When tlie little eggs lie warm 
Under my breast, 
Then I shall rest 
From singing; })ut thou 'lit sing to mc 
Jn murmuring love through shine and storm 
Bob White ! 
Wilt eome to me? 
So as f listen in the early dawn 
Thy mate is calling for thee, 
Ah! Bob White! 
Thou l/iggard Iov(;r ! Hasten to her side, 
She's waiting for thee in the dewy lawn — • 
Thy bride, Bob White! 



67 



The Confidant 

The honeymoon was gone. I knew 
'Twould last four weeks, perchance; 

And tlien 'twere safe to wager that the glance 
Of love would lose its fire, and view 

The scene more calmly, half-askance. 

I did not guess 'twould be so soon; 

But first comes she, the wife. 
With woful tale of her embittered life; 

The joy and glamour of her noon 
Made midnight by the clouds of strife. 

" All my romantic hopes," says she, 

" For union pure and high; 
All nobler interests that he and I 

Could know; a blessed unity 
That would time's saddening power defy — 

" All prove, Alas ! a cheating dream ! 

Yet would I e'en abase 
Myself, if need be; take the lower place; 

Give up my plans for life, and seem 
To wait in awe upon his grace. 



The Confidant 

" I'd only ask — no more tlian right — 

That he should but be wise, 
And try to feel how great a sacrifice 

I made, and with his skill and might 
Make real the dream that dazed my eyes. 

" I find instead no lofty aim, 

No blended power and love 
To help me reach a plane of life above 

Earth-levels and the common fame — 
He's simply caught and caged a dove. 

" He does not care that it can fiy ! 

No, it shall coo to please 
But him, and sleek its pretty wings, and tease 

Its heart with longing; if it die, 
What then ? His selfish heart's at ease ! " 

Then he comes — sighing fit to blow 
Church organs — " Ah, dear friend, 

I little knew how near the vision's end ! 
We men don't care to talk, you know. 

Too much of matters we can't mend — 

" But I give up my hopes for rest 

In clinging love; for aid 
And inspiration in each effort made 

Toward larger life; too great a test 
For any woman, I'm afraid. 
G9 



The Confidant 

" I once believed she'd understand 

My nature's deeper need 
By woman's intuition, and give heed 

To such a moderate demand 
As that she follow where I lead. 

" A perfect truth of confidence, 

And harmony with me 
And my great thoughts, I rightly hoped to see. 

Just purity and innocence 
Was all I wanted her to be ! 

" It was not much to ask of her. 

If more she could not do. 
That she at least be serious and true. 

Alas ! her lightness would deter 
A braver man than I, or you ! " 

"Go bring her here,'' I said; at length. 

When both, shamefaced, appeared — 
" Suppose," I asked, " that all which hope endeared, 

Of blended gentleness and strength, 
Were realized, and the heavens cleared: 

" Would you have asked me in to share 

Your hopes fulfilled in bliss? 
Then let me ask you why you bring me this. 

Your early failure; how you dare 
Betray your common life amiss.'' 
70 



The Confidant 

" False pride, the need of one clear word, 

And selfishness, I find. 
Have led to the edge of a tragedy, and blind 

You sigh apart, in hope deferred. 
Awake, and leave all self behind! 

" Share all things ; see where fault has been ; 

And guard from all outside 
The privacy of married life — your pride 

Should hold it little short of sin 
To mourn in public hopes that died. 

" Start now afresh. Let each give more. 

Demanding no return — 
So make your life a beauteous poem; learn 

What share each has in the common store, — 
And clear again love's fire shall burn. 

" If I mix acid and an earth 

They struggle and seethe, of course; 

Well, so must souls, far more, adjust their force 
Before combining; but its worth 

In the end exceeds each partial source. 

" So here's a lesson science lends 

To make the matter clear. 
Only adjust the hint to your higher sphere 

And I know now how the crisis ends — 
Don't bring your private worries here ! " 
71 



The Confidant 

Perhaps I've sliown the tragedy — 
If not, this makes it plain: 
I could have used her trust in me to gain 

Her love beside — far more than he 
I've loved her, always, and in vain! 



72 



The Burglary in the Church 

" Hist ! Pedro — when do they h)ck the cluircli ? 

Sharp nine, you say? " " You'll hear the old bell soon." 

" There it is now. Hark ! One — two — three — " 

[Within the church. 

Ave! 

Madre di Dio! 
Prega por noi 

Peccatori 

" Quick you ! Here comes the sexton out ! 
Stupid old man, and weak as any boy — 
Yah ! Turn the rusty key, much good it does ! 
You could n't keep us out " — 

" Take care, the priest ! " 
" Your blessing. Father." " Bcnedicite ! " 
" Now then, look sharp ! Stoop down and let me mount. 
Give me a knee; your back; lift — So! I've slid the bolt. 
Watch now and whistle if they come ; you know the call — 
Three squeaks like frightened marmot, then one drawn out 

long. 
Watch now, I'll soon come back " — 

73 



The Burglary in the Church 

" Faith ! I don't feel so bold when once within 

And all alone. What whispering noises creep 

All through the aisles and np along the roof; 

As if the souls of all who worship here 

Were coming back to spy me out, and cry, 

Before I do, ' Antonio's robbed the church 

O' tlie Holy INIother! '—I don't call it theft 

To take back what these lazy priests stole first 

From many an honest chap for useless prayers. 

Surely I'm not afraid of foolish shadows in a country 

cliurch ! 
Yes, but I am, though ! Porco Di ' ! I've left my flask 
Outside with Pedro, and he's drunk already 
Or I'm not called Antonio the Cruel. 
Now for a light. So — there's the chest I seek! 
Open then ! Humph ! This chisel's cursed dull ! 
Baccho, what echoes ! Now my beauties, come ! 
They'll hunt their gold and silver cups in vain next week. 
Let them melt down some of the hard earned gold 
The peasant gives them, when he sells his olives 
Three leagues away in P'lorence. They've enough 
To coat the church with if they — 

[Signal without. 

Here take this sack. It's heavy ! Ah-h, you fool ! 
Because you're deaf is every one a post? 
Don't clank the things together; hold the bag 
With one hand tight, and put the other under, 

74 



The Burglary in the Church 

There, that's tlie way ! 'Twill keep the noisy plates 

From calling out the wateh. Off now, and home! 

And mind you turn up for the early mass 

To-morrow morning, and don't over-act 

When first they tell you that the church was robbed 

Some time on Frid.ay night. Don't you begin 

To tell them where you were at nine o'clock. 

Keep still and hide the bag, and when the noise 

Has stilled a bit, we'll share and share alike; 

Although I ought to have the most, by rights. And Pedro, 

mind! 
Don't play me false ! You know they call me cruel 
And scare tlie children sleepy with my name. ()()()d-nif>;lit ! 
You turn to the left and hurry home. I'm going down 
To see a friend who has a pretty niece. Good-night ! " 

[The next afternoon, at confessional. 

Pedro. And I have lost my temper twice this week; 
And once I charged a woman somewhat more 
For a goat's cheese than most would think it worth ; 
And once — I — tliink I told wliat wasn't so — 
That's all, O Holy Father. 

Then the padre gave 
A penance suited to the case in hand. 
" Because you lost your temper, say a prayer 
Two hundred times a day; 'twill teach you patience. 
You have your beads.'' " 

" O I can count my fingers ! 
76 



The Burglary in the Church 

Five on each hand^ that's ten, and ten of them, 

Morning and evening, makes tvvo hundred prayers; 

(I've lost two fingers off my left hand, though. 

Antonio did it. But I'd say the prayers 

If they were there, and so we'll let it go.) 

" Then for the cheese— you'd better hunt her out 

From whom you took too much and give it back, 

And add as mucli again — or — that the Church 

Will take ; the Blessed Virgin needs a veil 

To keep the dust and flies off in the heat 

Of summer, and to keep her nicely warm 

In winter time. And then, because you lied. 

Give two new candles to the altar; so you'll learn 

How truth and generous thoughts together live. 

And everv time you see the candles burn 

You'll think that so much fire will be left out. 

And so much time as they shall need 

To burn all out, shall be forgiven to you 

In Purgatory; and so bring the best 

And longest you can find. Thus will be given 

Honor to Mary; and to you, reward 

After you're dead. Now go in peace, my son ! " 

[A week later. A poorly furnished hut on the 7nar^ 
gin of the village. 

Pedro. Ah me ! I told a lie, ev'n at confessional ! 
Little the Padre tliought that when I stuck 
And stammered out I'd said what wasn't so 

76 



The Burglary in the Church 

'Tw;is of tlie words next coming that I spoke, 
Not of those gone already. And the Padre said 
I shoukl bring candles, fair to sec and long. 
And so would be forgiven both fire and time 
In ]*urgatory. But the tapers bought 
And set out nicely by the altar there, 
I hoped my mind would sing itself to sleep 
With sounds that mean nought, as the babies do. 
And so I needn't think on what shines out 
So bright in the dark that even now I see 
The glimmering shapes of gold and silver cups 
That dance about the walls of this poor hut 
And through my brain, day in day out; while I 
Can shut my eyes and cars tight as the vats 
That hold the autumn cheeses, under weights 
Three men can't lift — so tight I say, my head 
Is shut from all about, and still they dance. 
Those crazy dishes, hideous fiends astride them, 
Leering and saying never a word ! Maria ! 
Will they not let me be ! What right have I — 

[Antonio comes in and listens. Pedro has thrown 
himself down on a chair and hidden his face 
in his arms on the table. A fire of sticks burns 
up fitfully, and the shadows come out of the 
corners a little way and then hurry bach again. 

Jesu! What right have I 

77 



The Burglary in the Church 

To nsk the Virgin's help, wlio have lior own 
Hid in a bag beneath my bed? I say 
Wliat right have I? Or will have in the years 
Fast hurrying on with loss of strength and hearing, 
When every day brings a new twinge of pain. 
And then that night — while stealing from the church, 
Surely a man's form drew a little back 
Into the trees that skirt the Florence road ! 
And tlioiigh I turned about and waited twice 
And saw or heard no more, I still felt sure — 
Why did I feel so? People say the old 
Have visions given them as they near the grave, 
So they know things the young had never guessed. 
And then that bag gave tongue a hundred times, 
It seemed to me; just as one takes a puppy 
And holds his nose to keep him still, and then 
Some moment he forgets, his fingers loose. 
The dog shakes free and takes him yelping home: — 
I feared me fifty times I'd drop the bag 
And see it waddle shrieking back to church ! 
And now the Sbirri come at any minute — 
Dig up my floor — 'tis found — they tie my hands, 
Drag me along through crowds of well-known folk 
Too proud to speak to one who forfeits it 
That honest men should ever greet him more ! 
Meanwhile Antonio — ah! I had not tliought! 
What could I say to him if I gave back 
As now I nearly thought I should — Ay, sure ! 

78 



The Burglary in the Church 

Would he who chopped my fingers off in fun 
Ever forgive 

Antonio. Would you expect liiin to? 

Don't jump, you hound! I've heard, I say. 
All of your stupid gabble, or as much 
As any man could hear and not turn sick ! 
I said that night we'd share and share alike, 
Though I deserved the most who did the most. 
But now I'll give you no half florin's worth — 
Not even the sight of it ! Hand here the bag, 
And waste no time, you beast ! 

Pedro. Antonio, wait ! 

Have we been friends so long, and shared our luck 
And now a few rash words must break the bond? 
Besides, the half is mine; you promised it; 
Three times you said we'll share and share alike — 
And 'twas the coin's toss that decided it 
Who should go in 

Antonio. Come, come! I have no time 

To chatter here. Give me the bag, I say, 
And I'll not harm you. You're too old to kick! 
Pedro. No I'll not give it up ! The half is mine ! 
For what else, tell me, did I risk my soul 
And 

Antonio. Pedro, don't you know the risk 

You're running now? I tell you I am loath 
To take by force what's altogether mine. 



79 



The Burglary in tlic Church 

l'\>r yiMi liavt' rorfiMlod 

rcdro. N.-iy! Thnl 1 li.ivc not ! 

1 cui (Itt'fiul my own 

.hitonio. DotViul it Ihon ! 

Ti-r IVuH'lio ! I've no wish to w.istr my bro.-illi! 

[Antonio feints irith liis kiiifr. rEoiio dodges, 
and wounds Antonio oh the forehead, just he- 
low the hair. The hlood blinds him; he strikes 
ivildltf to the side. PKnno is killed by the blow. 
Just as he falls, Antonio wipes the blood from 
Jiis ri/rs, the fire flares a bit, and he sees him 
lifivg dead. 

[The next morning earli/: the priest's dwelling. 

The Se.vton. Ni>. tlu^v'n^ not [here \e[\ eh? \vli;il? vou 



sny 

() yes, Pedro is dead — T said so first. 
Hut eoiue and see the hut. "What have 1 had 
To drink? O yes. what made me think — 
^^'hy thus it was. Last Friday night's a week. 
Isn't it? Let me see — yes, that's the night. 
I h>t'ked the door at nine: 1 always do; 
And hurried iiome aeross the market place. 
1 hadn't reaehed the (labhia, where they put 
The \agalu)nds and little thieves, beCtn-e 1 missed 
The snuH'box that your Heverenet> ga\(- me onet'. 
Ueinember it? All blaek on baek and sides. 
And rubbed a ehoeolate brown along- the edge, 

80 



The Biir^ljiry In ilic ('Imrcli 

And wlicic yoii prcsM llitiiiil) wlicn y<*" <'|><'M il 
"I'is worn HO iJiin llinl; 'IvvixL iJic siifi .iiid yoii 
A .sluirp f\'f Hccs I he line of I lie diisl, 
Williiii. Well, NO I liirmd /ilioiil 
And liiirri(;(l l)/ick, lor I li.id Id, il lie 
(Ipoti llicorf^fin hciicli iiiilil I closed iJic, clioir. 
I Iiiirricd It.K-k, I .say, IIk' sliorlcsl; ro/id, 
And so cainc in ,-il, llir siiial! door yon use 
'Co gain LIk; npsc. willionl. lli<- titcd of ]mv'in^ 
Tlic lon^ ninin nishr. ( opened soil, I.Ik; door, 
And slopped ! f li(;nrd n rasping; noiHO 
lAki- old wood spliliinf!;, in llie lillle room 
Where iianf^ llie veslnienls. So I Inirried oiil 
And liid nie in llie Irees llial skirl llie road 
I-eadin^' l(» I'lonnee, w\\t\-i- Uie small inn sbindf) 
Where lived Anlonio once Ihe on*- Ihcy call 
Antonio llie (rnel leelinii; sure they'd come, 
If il was Ihiives, and lake, Uk; eoinilry road. 
I hadn'l wailed lonf>- lui'orc. \ heard 
Th/il miidled (laiiiielly sound a nielal lliin/^ 
Makes wilh aiiolher when Ihey're holh wrapped up. 
I hid me deeper, and a man crrtpl hy 
I loidinji,' \ui\>ri- him as il were a hahe 
{'lose wra|)ped in hiack so, earefiilly 'Iwas he-Id; 
One hand ahoiil ils neck, lik(" lliis, and one Ixdow, 
lie held il slrai^hl lielorc him as he l"ell his w.iy. 
|{iil jiisl a, nioin(;nl aCler |)assinf^ me. 
He slumhhtd on a rool^ and ihen I heard 

81 



The Burglary in the Church 

Only have patience! Where did I stop? O yes. 
The man that came in last said something loud, 
A noise of quiet cursing under breath, 
And that same noise again. Now I've not cleaned 
The gold and silver service of Our Blessed Lady 
For nearly thirty years, and handled them 
Times without number, not to know their ring 
Though in a bag, and though my hearing's poor. 
Well ! After that I followed close behind 
And soon we came to that small peasant's hut 
Oil" from the road a bit, with the crooked door. 
He went inside, and I looked through a crack — • 
I found three good ones on the western side — 
And then I saw him scrape away the dirt 
Beneath the straw he lies on; and then hurried home. 
And every night but two I've watched the place, 
And never saw or heard aught till last night. 
Here ! So I stood, and watched him sitting there, 
His head bowed down as if in sleep; but soon 
I heard a murmur; then the fire shot up 
Enough to let me see his open eye. And then 
Another man came in and stood just here. 
The first one did not know it, for his back 
Was turned, and he was talking to himself. 
And pretty soon the stranger — so to say, 
Though both of them have never been to church — 
I'll stake my soul I'd know them — everj'^ man 
And child and woman — yes ! I'll tell you all, 

83 



The Burglary in the Church 

The other started; then the words came fast. 

I heard one call the other Beast, and then 

They fought. The first man soon fell dead, 

And I turned round, soon as I caught my wits. 

And ran with all my strength to tell the watch ; 

And if I had not stopped to tell you first 

I'd had the Sbirri here, by now, and the murderer caught! 

[One month later. A mountain glen with steep 
sides; a small fire screened by flat stones; seated 
before it, Antonio, his hand on his knife, lis- 
tening. 

Antonio. A thousand curses ! Oh those bloodless eyes ! 
How tliey stared up from tlie slialh)w grave! 
And what a fool I was to choose the place 
In the dry brook, where the first rain will wash 
And tear away the leaves, and show his face 
Still glaring up between the stones ! Oh God ! 
Would it were I that lay there ! 'Twere no worse 
Than having that last look so sharply cut 
Upon my brain, to study hourly. 
And follow with my finger each sharp curve. 
Each twisted angle in his sunken cheeks. 
His half-shut teeth, so white against his beard — 
I put my finger on them — so — and, ugh! — they're cold! 
And how I started as his hand slid down. 
That one I cut the fingers off — he spoke 

83 



The Burglary in the Cliiirch 

About it just before — Oh God I my licnd! 

I will not stand it! Let them stretch my limbs 

And torture me ! I know wliat torture is ! 

I liave had worse upon the mountains here 

Through long cold nights and sleepless days of hunger 

riian ever man gave to another yet. 

riiose are the kind a man can give himself 

(\nd mine are damned with Hell's own misery ! 

I'll take me back and ease my mind once more 

\t the confessional. 1 liked it once, 

[n my first boyhood, for I had no thought 

But what a priest mightly gladly hear 

[f he remembered his own childish days. 

Mischief there was, but nothing bad. Ah me ! 

?/an my tears flow, that pain and lust and crime 

Eiave only made the drier with their scorching heat.'' 

see now, I'm calm again, almost, and I 

i^ave juniped at every sound, or thought of noise, 

''or many days, and seen a rifle barrel 

n every branch that grew not crookedly. 

^onie now, the mood is on me, and I'll go! 

Vntonio the Cruel can be steadfast too ! 

[The confessional next day. Groans and sobs at- 
tract early comers, but they soon subside. 

[In the evening, at a doorstep, to a company of 
friends, 

84 



The Burglary in the Chureh 

A little girl. Yes, I was kneeling there 
Before the altar, saying a prayer, 
And thinking of the candles tall and fair 
Pedro had given. For that day. 
Being the feast of San Bartolome, 
They lighted them the second time, they say. 
And a tall man, whose hair was black 
And hung all ragged round him, touched my back 
With his shoulder as he knelt at the rack. 
And just then, every candle flame 
Shivered a minute and went out ; and came 
A stir among the peo))lc, calling on Mary's name. 
And the man asked mc what it meant; and I 
Answered that Pedro gave them, only to die 
The next night — and I heard a cry 
As of a wounded horse, and the man turned white 
So that I did not know him. Then my sight 
Cleared, and I knew, and shriekiid with all my might. 
And this very day they took him to the jail 
Between two lines of soldiers, and without fail 
They'll })ut him to the torture. But he'll not quail. 

My father says, for body's ache or pain 

And then they'll show him to us, if the strain 

Hasn't quite killed him, and then they'll do it again. 

And so 'twill be until he dies, they say; 

And when he dies he'll go the wicked way, 

AtuI his awful burning will lu; worse; each day. 

The i)riesl, to his people. Thus you see, my friends, 

85 



The Burglaiy in the Church 



What shameful ends 
The wicked come to ! 



The people, at the tavern. 'Tis very plain, dear friends, 
Thus a Friday's venture ends, 
And always will do. 



So they told me the tale. 

Disjointed and blunt at the end: 

But the ways of man's heart, though in evil case. 
Our wit grows sharper, perhaps, if we trace. 

What do you think, my friend, 

Of my ill-told tale.'' 



86 



GeroniiTK) 

A tra<redy in three acts. 

AiKaiMKNT. — Fn tlic slave market of Oran an Aral) boy 
is hoiifrlil hy Jiiaii (!;iro, Uie Spanish j^ovt-rnor. Moved by 
liis f!;()()(l {|ii,ilili(S, .itul a (aricicd rcscinbiaiicc lo iiis dead 
son, llie governor frees llie boy al'Ler a siiort Lime, adopts 
and edtieales liim, and n^names In'm (ieronimo. At the, same 
slave market tin; governor has Ixnight an Arub girl, named 
Zorahayd.a. (ieronimo converts her to his m^w religion, 
('hristiam'ty, and tells her of his h)V(;. Slu- returns it, arid 
Juan (!aro, as an expression of his ph-asiiri' in \\\i- fact, 
mak('S (J(Tonimo his heir and the; (laptain of the Spanish 
(Juard. Whil(! worshiping together at vespers tlx; same 
day, messengers bring news of a sm.dl b.irid of Arabs 
cain})ed near the <'ity, and rimiors of a general gatliering 
of nil the trilx'S utider the l<>a(l(;rship of a renegade 
Spaniard, Kuldji Ali. Against him (ieronimo h,is fought 
in the past. He rc^solves to scatter thtr small band before 
Ali can arrive, but takes too f(^w men and is captured. As 
LIk; Arabs hohl liim without wiioui they i\c\ that the; city 
can not make a good (h-fencc, and because; he is a (Hiristian 
and they desire to make an exam{)Ie of him for deserting 

87 



( <(M'()i)iin() 

Ills Moslem lailli, Ali (Iclcniiiiics (o ('ni'r\' liiin lo l'\-/, niul 
.siiiniiioii .'ill llic Irilx's. ( ■croiiiiiu) wins llic lu-arLs of Ali'.s 
null, nnd |iy his p.'isl ("(iiuf ms m warrior niid liis present, 
hr/ncry lliey arc led lo <'oiisider him as Iheir |>ossil)le ehief, 
provided he will liirn Moslem aj^ain. lie is imprisoned 
for a monlh mdil all Ihe trihes <'an ^.alher at l''e/.. Mean 
while /orahayda has heard of his eondilioii and follows 
him hy stealth, neeompanied hy only an old ne^ress. She 
arrives at l''e/. the ni;^ht before his (h-ath, Jind pleads (\)r 
him wilh Ali Ihe ne\l nunninj;' before the people. They 
lake the mailer out of Ali's eonlnil, and oiler Ihe post ol" 
leader lo (ieronimo if he will relnrn lo his boyhood's faith, 
bill it not he mnsi die. lie is ordered lo be biiill up in the 
wall of Ihe great j^ales (»f Kn Djeind, a palace at. I'c/,, I'or 
he refuses lo reeanl. Zorahayda kills Ali. an*l llun, worn 
oiil by her se\<re experiences on the journey and her 
prcseiil I rials, dies. 



H8 



I'kkhonh ltr;ri(KHioN'rii;i). 

(iiCiioNiiVK). All Aral), hoiif^lil, a.s a hoy, I r< id and a(l(i|il<(l 
liy .liiaii Cnvo. 

ZoiiAll A VDA. All Ar.il) }i,irl, l)<)iijj,lil a,l. Uic .saiiic l.iiiir willi 
(iciDiiiiiio and l)r()ii;^liL up in ('aro'.s palace- al, Oraii. 

Juan (miu>. Spani,sli {iovt-rnnr ol" Oraii. 

Mmld.ii Ai.i. Rciicf/;a(lit Spaniard, in coiiiinaiKJ ol" Liu; 
Aral) l,ri|)(t,s. 

MiciiKii. A priNonrr of Aliw at l'"«/, Spaniard and 
Clirisliuii. 

J*UIKHT. In cliarf^c of llif callirdial al Oraii. 

Tiiitiflifl Imaumh. 

SoI(li(;r,s ol" Iju; Spanish (iiiard al Oraii. Ali'.H ,soldi(;rH. 
Arab workmen. 

Scenes of the aclion, Juan Caro'H pulucc; the catlM.dral ; 
an Aral) cainp iti the desert; prison at Fez; l^i Djeliid, a 
palace at Vex between the old town and the new. 

'J'i/nc (if ilu: mlion, a few weeks, from Deecinher 'Z(), ICtiCt. 



89 



Geronimo 



GERONIMO. 

ACT I. 

SciSNK 1. Court iiard of .Iuan Caho's pahu-r. At tlic 
window, plai/ing lute mid liinniiiiiii>; to herself, ZoiiA- 
iiAYDA. Vista (loir II street to left, open i it s:; on small 
square, front. 

Zorahaifda. Vlowcr of tlie Rose ! 

No «)tluM' luN'irt my hoart's {jjrc.'it lr«\'isiirt' knows! 
Nov liovv I dwell upon the nmtchlcss grace 
Of one bold spirit. 
Flower of the Rose ! 

Flower of the Vine ! 

His eyes haA-e yazed with })nssion into mine! 

I fenr nnd loxc the benuty of his face 

And his bold spirit. 
Flower of the V^ine ! 

\Stops to listen to distant .tong, up the .street, of the 
/Spanish patrol on its four o'eloek round. 'The 
song dies out. 

90 



Geronimo 

Flow('r of llu' CIIovc, ! 

What flower ciii Itll I lie iric.iMinjj!; of my love? 

\Sl()'px Ofrain io lislcn to iJic (liutrd, coviinfr nearer. 
Us s()ii<y now (I'islhitl llio' hcliind llic .scenes. 

(iiiiird (approdcliin^). The lion ol" Uic dcscrl, pl.iiii, 
'Vhv, H.'ivago inountain hear, 
'Vhc. fanner as he r(;a{),s lii.s f^rain, 
'I'lic inonic wlio lives by prayer, 
Arc not more free 
'I'o love tlian we ! 
IJy day W(; fight 
Make love at night, 

I One voice. \ 

And nctver know a eare 

\AU.\ 
JInrrah ! 
And never know a (rarer ! 

\ Short panse.] 

Zorahayda. . . . the meaning o(" my lov«;! 
As the deer longs for refiig«r in llu; chase, 
So longs my spirit! 
Flower of the Clove! 

\(iuard is seen for the firsi lime, cominfr down the 
street. 

91 



Geronimo 

Guard. In Andalusia's lovely vale 
Lilies and poppies grow, 
But all their perfumed beauties pale 
Beside the pretty maids we know, 
And love more dear 
In the desert here: 
Though far away 
We'll meet some day 

[One voice.] 

And never know a care 

[All.] 
Hurrah ! 
And never know a care ! 

[As Guard reaches the square and the end of its song 
together, it halts. Zoraiiayda draws the cur- 
tain partly across the window and peeps out. 

To his second in command, El Chico, 

Geronimo. El Chico ! 
Take thou the guard upon the usual round. 
The city's safe, no foes its peace confound: 
The vesper bell soon summons it to sleep 
And then the evening watch with thee I'll keep. 
Adios ! 

[Guard salutes and marches away ; Zorahayda draws 
the curtain a little more aside. 
92 



Geronimo 

Geronimo. Tlie evening falls over the quiet town. 
While the hot splendors of the setting sun 
Give place to heavy dews, soft settling down. 
And watchful stars that steal out one by one. 

The peaceful scenes without no answer find 
In the fierce struggle here within my breast ! 

Zorahayda ! How thy beauties blind 
My vision to all else, and fill my mind 
With constant longing and a sweet unrest ! 

1 come to thee, dear heart, and thy rich voice 
Shall bid me cease all hope or evermore rej oice ! 

[Enters the court. Up to this time he has not seen 
Zorahayda, Now she rises and they gaze 
steadily at each other a moment; then he breaks 
out — 

Zorahayda ! 
I gaze on thee with a strong delight 
My heart surcharged with a passion deep 
As the sea that dreams in the star's cool light ! 

My watch as a soldier for thee I keep — 

'Tis thee alone that I love and guard 

While thou and the city are wrapped in sleep ! 

[Walks restlessly up and down a moment; she seats 
herself; he turns and resumes more calmly: 
93 



Geronimo 

Like thee I was born an Arab child, 

The son of a cliieftain fierce and wild 

Who warred with his neighbors constantly 

And slaughtered his captives cruelly; 

Yet true to his own and kind to his friends. 

He perished in battle and I was the prey 

Of the conquering chief; who sent me away 

From my desert home when but ten years old 

To this city of Oran. Here I was sold 

In the market of slaves. 'Tis but little I hold 

Still clear in my mind of the ride to the coast 

Or my cruel captors; but one of the host 

Of slaves on that day was Arab like me, 

And my heart gave a bound at the cruelty 

She suffered. And though but a child, and >vorn 

With hunger and pain, my ankles torn 

Where the cords cut deep in the flesh, ev'n then 

I joyed in her sight as thirsty men 

Rejoice at the spring in the oasis green, 

As my young heart bowed and saluted its queen ! 

And oh ! how 1 hoped we might both be bought 

By the same kind master, and eagerly sought 

In the faces there for one who was kind 

To whom I would trust her ! My eyes were blind 

With my unshed tears when at last I spied 

A figure noble and dignified. 

With such serious eyes and a voice so mild — 

But he bought me, and I lost sight of the child 

94 



Geronimo 

[To herself. 
ZoraJiayda. That was Juan Caro, name most dear. 

Geronimo. Juan Caro! My father! lie brought me 
here. 
To tliis very house, and for many a year 
I served him and loved him, a willing slave; 
And for all my service, his kind heart gave 
My freedom, at last — and more beside — 
He gave me the jilacc of his son wlio had died 
In his early youtli, and filled my cup 
With love and freedom, bringing me up 
As a prince and a Christian, Iiaving me taught 
As a noble of Spain his child. I sought 
To please him, excelling with book and spear; 
But my heart was unsatisfied, even here. 
Till I found near the women's apartment one day 



Zorahayda. Thou didst find the child 

Geronimo. I found thee, yea ! 

And my heart was at rest as never before 
Since, myself a child, I entered this door. 
With thee I shared all my youthful hours, 
To thee I devoted my new found powers, 
With thee felt neither sorrow or need, 
For thee my triumphs were triumphs indeed! 

95 



Geronimo 

Zorahayda. Ah ! more than that, Geronimo ! 
Through thee at first I learned to know 
Thy Christian faith, so far above 
All others, and thy God of love ! 
Deep as our friendship was in all 
The little things of life we call 
So dear, to me 'twas doubly sweet 
With one of mine own kin to greet 
The Blessed Virgin as the light 
Of each new day dispelled the night; 
To ease my heart of every care, 
To raise with thee one common prayer 
To our dear Lord; to tell the priest 
Together of our sins, the least 
And greatest, and to be forgiven 
Together, and so led toward heaven. 

Geronimo. Beloved, if our life has been 
So truly one, dost thou begin 
To weary of it? I have thought 
When late mine eyes for thine have sought. 
That thou wouldst turn away thine own ; 
The current of thy speech has grown 
Less warm and friendly, as the streams 
The travelers tell of, when the beams 
Of the winter's sun are cold. I know 
Thou art not less my friend. Not so 
The Arab heart knows friendship's name! 



Geronimo 



And yet thou art not just the same 

What all the luxury to me 

Of this dear home, my station free, 

My soldier's name, and his kind thought 

Whose loving care so greatly wrought 

To bless us both, if all must end 

In losing thee, my earliest friend — 

For whom my love each day more strong 

Has grown — that now I long 

More than all else, with all my power 

Of longing, for the blessed hour 

That tells me thou art mine ! O Sweet 

And Beautiful! Here at thy feet 

I kneel and offer all my heart, 

All that I am and can be! All 

That life contains of joy is small 

And pitiful, unless thou give 

This best of all, and bid me live 

Indeed in love for thee! 

[Juan Caro, coming across the courtyard, stops by 
the fountain with evident pleasure in the scene. 

Zorahayda. I bid 

Thee live, Geronimo ! I hid 
My love, that otherwise betrayed 
Itself too soon, feeling afraid 
To let thee see how dear thou art. 

97 



Geronimo 

But now I tell thee, all my heart, 
My very self is thine ! 

[They embrace.] 

Both. O Love ! Thou language of pure delight 
My heart its story of passion deep 
In thy sweet accents would fain recite ! 

Zorahayda. Mine eyes with tremulous joy must weep 

Both. In the new-found glory of love's sweet might 

Geronimo. With surging fire my pulses leap ! 

Both. O Blessed Virgin ! In thy light 
Of wondrous love, we pray thee keep 
And bless all loving hearts to-night ! 

Juan Caro. O Children I have loved as mine own, 
I doubt not ye are heard, 
And the Great Mother, standing by the tlirone 
Repeats the prayerful word. 

My prayers I add that ye may be blessed 

Through all tlic coming years; 
And now may I depart to my long rest 

Untroubled by my fears. 
98 



Geronimo 

For long have I desired that ye two 

Through love might be as one; 
But nought that seemed to force it could I do 

That were not best undone. 

Thou, Zorahayda, as my daughter grew 

Beneatli my watchful care; 
Thine eyes, Geronimo, my long-lost child looked through, 

Thee have I made mine heir. 

And thus my cherished plans for all this length 

Of weary waiting time, 
Are perfect in the union of thy strength 

With womanhood's full prime. 

[He joins their hands; to Geronimo 7nore particU" 
larly, 

Geronimo, the Captain of the Guard 

Has been recalled to Spain 

I make thee Captain in his stead. 

[ZoRAHAYDA flings her arms about Carols neck and 
kisses him. 

'Tis a high honor for so young a head 
To carry, but thy brain 
Is tried in council as thy hand in war. 

99 



Geronlmo 

Embrace me once, my son ! 

Once let me strain 

That manly form to this old heart — 



'Tis mine own boy come back again, 
With all the pride of warriors 
Battling afresh in every vein 

And now go forth, acquaint the men 
Of their new head; I say not " gain 
Their trust," for that thou hast 
Long since. We'll meet again 
At vespers. 

Geronimo. My Father! Bless me ere I go! 
Tell me again thou'rt pleased ! 
Tell me how best my life can show 
My love and gratitude! 

My thoughts with keenest joy o'erflow, 
My longings, all appeased. 
Bid me express my thanks- — I know 
No word for gratitude! 

I can but promise thee to grow 
What in thy son had pleased 
Thy father's pride — my life shall so 
Be proof of gratitude! 

[Kneels and is blessed; then to Zorahayda: 

100 



Geronimo 

Farewell a little hour! 

My life, my joy! 

Didst tliou cling to tliy dead inotlicr 

When heartless men would carry thee away 

To cruel slavery? 

So would I hold thee 

Tight to my breast 

And let nothing part us ! 

I tliank our friend and father 

For his generous love ! 

I thank thee for h)ving me, 

More tlian my words can say ! 

Together at vespers 

Let us offer grateful praises 

To God above — 

Farewell, a little hour. 

My Beautiful, my Love ! 

[Caro to ZoHAiiAYi>A, (IS Geronimo turns to go. 

Caro. How liis strong young life 
Has twined itself with mine 

I can not tell ! 
Oil ! if I should lose him ! 

[Spanish Guard comes up in disorder shouting. 
Geronimo flings wide the doors and goes to 
meet them; they surround, him and carry him 
away singing. 

101 



Geronimo 

Guard. Geronimo ! Captain ! 
Hail to our Captain ! Hail to our comrade ! 

Who's shared all our trials, our joy and our grief! 
We loyally pledge him our love and devotion. 

Hail to our comrade ! Hail to our chief ! 

[Caro and Zorahayda stand just within the door- 
way; then Caro takes her face hetrveen his 
hands, gazes long into it, and asks: 

Caro. O Zorahayda, dost thou love him? 

[She, in tears, flings herself upon his neck, crying 
out: 

Zorahayda. My Father! 

END OF SCENE 1. 

Scene 2. Entire stage occupied by cathedral interior, 
placed slightly diagonally, altar at farthest end, choir 
stalls either side; worshipers look an-ay from stage. 
Several come in and take places; then Caro and Zora- 
hayda with some of her maidens. Choir in place and 
priest at altar. 

Priest {Ant.) Tecum principium in die virtutis tuae in 
splendoribus sanctorum: ex utero ante luciferum genui te, 
[Zorahayda sits half turned, watching for Geron< 
IMO. Boys' voices chant softly: 
102 



Geronimo 

Dixit Dominus Domino meo: sede a dextris meis 

Donee poniam inimieos tuos: scabellum pedum tuorum. 

Virgam virtutis mittit Dominus ex Sion: dominare in medio 
inimicorum tuorum. 

Tecum principium in die virtutis tuae in splendoribus sanc- 
torum: ex utero ante luciferum genui te. 

With the words, " Tecum principium," Geronimo 
has entered and taken his seat by Zorahayda. 
Full organ. 

Juravit Dominus et non pcenitebit eum: tu es sacerdos in 
eternum secundum ordinem Melchisedech. 

Dominus a dextris tuis: conf regit in die irge suae reges. 

Judicabit in nationibus implevit ruinas: conquassabit capita 
in terra multorum. 

De torrente in via bibet: propterea exaltabit capita. 

Gloria Patri Filioque et Spiritui Sancto: sicut primo et 
nunc et in saecula saeculorum. Amen. 

{Ant.) Sede a dextris meis dixit Dominus Domino meo. 

(Cap.) Stephanus plenus gratia et fortitudine faciebat pro- 
digia et signa magna in populo. Et intuebantur vultum 
ejus tanquam vultum angeli stantis inter illos. 

{R.) Impetum fecerunt unanimes in eum et ejecerunt eum 
extra civitatem, invocantem et dicentem, Doraine, accipe 
spiritum meum. 

103 



Geronimo 

[This response by solo voice, Decani side; the fol- 
lowing Verses by all Decani: 

(V.) Gloria Deo Patri siimnio ej usque soli sibi regi nato: 
ac utriusque Spiritui Sancto: sicut erat in primo, et 
nunc et semper et in ssecula. Amen. 

[A capella.l 
(Hi/mnus.) Sancte Dei preciose protomartyr Stephane, 
Qui virtute charitatis circunfultus undique; 
Dominum pro inimico exorasti populo. 

Funde preces pro devoto tibi nunc collegio; 
Ut tuo propiciatus interventu Dominus 
Nos purgatis a peccatis jungat coeli civibus. 

Gloria et honor Deo usquequo altissimo, 

Uno Patri Filioque Inclito Paraclito, 

Cui laus est et potestas per aetcrna saecula. Amen. 

(F.) Justus germinabit sicut lilium: et florebit in aeternum 
ante Dominum. 

[Enter messenger R. He stands and crosses him- 
self, kneels for prayer; then waves hand and 
someone near Caro attracts his attention. 
Card comes out; meanwhile a fine solo voice 
sings the Justus germinabit, very softly. 
104 



Geronimo 

Messenger. The Arabs come ! 
Without the city camped 
They lie in wait like locusts! 
They wait for Euldji Ali 

[Caro stops him with a motion of the hand, nods to 
GeronimOj who comes out. Zorahayda starts 
to follow, hut resumes her seat and watches 
them. 

(Ant.) Patefactae sunt januae cocli Christi martyri beato 
Stephano; qui in numero sanctorum inventus est primus 
et idee triumphat in coelis coronatus. Alleluya ! 

\Full organ and choir. Card about to speak, but 
Geronimo lays his hand on his arm and all 
listen to the inspired message. Geronimo kneels 
during the singing till the Alleluya. Soft organ 
interlude. Caro gives sign to messenger. 

Messenger. There to the south but ten miles out 
The Arabs gather, robber chief 
And desert tribesman, city thief 
And mountain shepherd, all are met, 
While Euldji Ali gathers yet 
The distant tribes of soutli and east, 
To watch the city walls. Released 
But now from the cruel band 

They bade me tell thee they demand 

105 



Geronimo 

[Caro, anxious to make light of it, and yet alarmed: 

Caro. Peace, peace! Depart, and find 
Rest and refreshment with the guard. ^Exit messenger.^ 

{To Geronimo.] 
'Twill scatter them like drops of morning dew 
To send a few stout men against this foe ! 
This man tells all he fears; were half but true 
They had not let the trembling coward go! 

[Returns to seat by Zorahayda. Geronimo paces 
thoughtfully up and down while the Magnificat 
is chanted. 

Choir. Magnificat: anima mea Dominum 

Et exultavit spiritus mens: in Deo salutari meo. 

Quia respexit humilitatem ancillae suae: ecce enim ex hoc 

beatam me dicent omnes generationes. 
Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est: et sanctum nomen 

tuum. 
Et misericordia a progenie in progenies : timentibus eum. 
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo: dispersit superbos mente 

cordis sui. 
Deposuit potentes de sede: et exaltavit humiles. 
Esurientes implevit bonis: et divites dimisit inanes. 
Suscepit Israel puerum suum: recordatis misericordise suae; 
Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros : Abraham et seminem 

ejus in saecula. 

106 



Geronimo 

Gloria Patri Filioque et Spiritui Sancto: sicut primo et 
nunc et in saeciila saeculorum. Amen. 

{Oratio.) Da nobis, quaesumus, Domine, iinitari quod coli- 
mus et inimicos deligere, quia ejus natabilia celebra- 
mus, qui novit etiain pro persecutoribus exorare Domi- 
num Jesum Christum Filium Tuiun: qui Tecum vivit 
et regnit in saecula saeculorum. Amen. 

\_During the Oratio GEnoNiMo on his knees, right 
front. The priest gives his blessing, the wor- 
shipers rapidly disperse, priest and choir file 
out left front, the tapers on the altar are ex- 
tinguished. Caro and Zorahayda covie out 
last to join Geronimo. 

Zorahayda. Geronimo ! My Father ! What is this 
That casts its heavy shadow o'er my love? 
My heart is anxious, why I cannot tell; 
The glowing stars which in the sky above 
Steal forth so quickly, pierce me with a light 
That seems but to display a coming woe: 
And strange forebodings fill my heart to-night; 
Tell me the danger, dear Geronimo. 

Caro. Nay, daughter, 'tis a trifle. ^Ve have heard 
That near the gates some Bedouin Arabs camp, 
A petty band of robbers; though the tale 

107 



G^eronimo 

One messenger has brought would seem to show 
That near and far the tribes are gathering 
With Euldji Ali for their leader, soon 
To make a last attack upon the town 
And shatter finally their allied strength. 
'Tis many years since any band of them 
Has dared to show itself so near; they grow 
More daring, and behooves we break their power, 
Cripple, disorder and disperse the band 
Before their general with other hordes 
Of those wild children of the desert wastes 
Combine with these and give us more to do. 
Let us but scatter this small handful now; 
The greater host will see we're well prepared 
And watchful, and give o'er their plan. 

Geronimo, as Captain of the Guard, 
Send out some fifty men and drive them off. 
Let Chico take command; I hear he says 
He should have had your captaincy; if so 
He'll show his valor now more splendidly. 

Geronimo. 'Tis but one reason more that I should go! 
I'll take a dozen men against this band 
And kill or capture them as easily 
As Chico with his fifty could have done ! 

\Standing before Geronimo and addressing him. 

Zorahayda. If I have found much favor in thine eyes, 

108 



Geronimo 

If any grace or virtue dwell in me 

That seems as 'twere thy manhood's ornament, 

If in past days our love have made us glad 

And yet less happy than our future love, 

I pray thee, dearest Friend, go not thyself 

Against this Arab band! In former wars 

Thy hand and brain have given them cause for hate 

Beyond all other thirst their natures feel. 

And should they take thee — Oh ! my heart is sick 

At thought of cruel torture they would use. 

To kill thee by so often cheating death! 

Geronimo. Ask me not that, my Zorahayda! See, 
If I refuse to go my men will say 
That I have grown afraid, or mean to take 
My comfort now in sloth while others fight. 
Chico will justly say he should have had 
The place I hold, for nought would make him stay 
Sitting at home while others won the fight. 
But more than all, my duty were not done; 
There's no reproach for soldiers worse than that! 

Suppose the Arabs take me — I can die 

A soldier always puts his life in risk 
When he sets foot upon the battlefield; 
And though he come safe home again, he gives 
His life as truly for his country's sake 
As if the hostile steel had shed his blood. 
And as his country honors him therefor, 

109 



Geronimo 

So he dishonors self and native land, 
Manhood, his calling, yea and life itself. 
If he prove recreant to such high trust! 

Zorahayda. Ah ! But thou goest not as stripling boy 
Who needs to prove his father's pride well placed, 
And fight with bravery far beyond his years. 
Who dares to say thou art not brave and strong, 
True to thy duty, honor's very soul ! 
'Tis for my sake thou'lt stay. I do not plead 
Thine added value for the city's strength 
Now thou art Captain of the Spanish Guard, 
Nor any thought of safety for thyself. 
Nor new found comfort in my loving arms: 
But only that thou grant me this first wish 
My heart has known since our betrothal vows. 
My soul is burdened with prophetic fears; 
I know that if thou go 'tis to thy death ! 
Ask me not how I know it; 'tis enough 
That my whole being surges with the thought ! 
Thou wilt not grant it? Then this other prayer; 
Hear this at least, thou canst not well refuse ! 
Stay but this night. Let the dark hours pass 
Between thy strong determination and thy deed; 
Then, if thou must, myself shall place the spear 
In thy dear hand, and bid thee go with God. 

Geronimo. Thou dost but tempt me from my duty, Sweet. 
110 



Geronimo 

'Tis love^ but love perverted, makes thee speak ! 

Knowing the vporth of all I risk thereby, 

My love for thee undimmed, yea ! brighter far 

That 'tis my duty thus to hazard it; 

Looking before me to the coming years 

When thou canst say with joyous, loving pride, 

" He did not fear to risk his very life, 

When life was full of yet untasted joys " — 

I still must answer both requests 

With a fond lover's kisses, but a soldier's " No ! " ~^ 

[ZoRAHAYDA falls half fainting; Geronimo puts her 
in Carols arms and rvatches them off the stage, 
left; then exit right. 

END of act I. 



Ill 



Geronimo 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. Arab camp in the desert; half a dozen tents 
irregularly placed; near at hand lie arms, clothing, 
camel saddles. One sentry front, apparently asleep, no 
other signs of Arabs near the tents, but far at the back 
a horde of them half buried in the sand, a head lifted 
at times. Absolutely flat sand plain. With a shout — 

Sant' lago ! Sant' lago ! 

[Geronimo and ten men rush on stage; sentry fires 
and retreats. Arab or two out of each tent, 
and great strife and tumult. Cries of — 

Allah illah Allah ! Sant' lago ! 
God and the King ! Allah, Allah ! 

[Arabs bunch and retreat, rear center; others, up to 
this time concealed, rush in from sides. Geron- 
imo and his men form back to back, Geronimo 
thus turning his face to front of stage. A 
shout: 



Geronimo 

Geronimo ! 'Tis Geronimo ! 

[Fiercer attacks directed to him especially, some 
crying — 



Down with him ! 
Spare him for Ali! 
Take him prisoner ! 



[A voice.] 
[Many voices.] 



[Sudden rush made, Geronimo overpowered, the 
■> others of his band hilled, except one who 

escapes to the city. Geronimo brought front, 
his wound roughly bound, water offered which 
he drinks eagerly. He is permitted to sit at 
the foot of a tent. Distant Arab music; the 
men shout — 

Ali! Here is Ali! 

[Some go out to meet him. Geronimo tries to stand; 
he is helped to his feet. Enter Ali, gorgeous 
in Arab costume; stands regarding Geronimo, 
who meets his gaze steadily. 

Ali. At last, O Christian dog ! My foe of years ! 
Thou pitiable slave ! Thou favorite 

113 



Geronimo 

And petted plaything of a Spanish lord! 
At last I have thee in my power! 

[Strikes him with whip; murmurs among the 
Arabs, which cease as Ali loohs threateningly 
round. 

How did they let thee lead these men 
Who risked and lost their lives so foolishly? 
Art thou entrusted with some small command? 
Hast thou so fawned about Juan Caro's knee 
That he has raised thee from the ranks? Perhaps 
He's married thee to some fat Spanish girl. 
Ha ! That provokes thee ! Makes thee bite thy lip, 
Chases the color from thy baby cheeks — 
When I have sacked the town I'll seek her out 
And if she's pretty, take her for my slave. 

{Slaps his face with each open hand, right and left; 
Geronimo falls. Ali leaves him, beckons to a 
couple of officers and they confer aside for a 
few minutes. To all his men — 

Ali. Men! We have captured 
And hold as prisoner 
Geronimo, captain 
Of Juan Caro's army. 
Without him their power 
Is gone; we may leave them 

114 



Geronimo 

And return at our leisure. 
This prisoner we'll carry 
To Fez. Send fleet horsemen 
To tell all the tribesmen 
We've caught the arch traitor 
And how he was captured: 
Bid them assemble 
At Fez for his judgment 
One month from the present. 

[Several messengers depart. Turning to Geronimo. 

Thou shalt have such care and food 
As shall keep thee well enough 
For our journey back to Fez — 
Well thou knowest what that means ! 
There before the gathered tribes, 
In the stronghold of the faith, 
Thou shalt learn what tortures wait 
For the coward Christian slave. 
When at last thou'rt overwhelmed, 
Dying, thou shalt suffer most 
Thinking of thy friends. My hate 
Shall pursue them, and work out 
On their loved heads the overcharge 
Of scorn and loathing thy poor self 
Art far too small to expiate! 

[Spurns him with his foot. To his soldiers — 
Up, men ! Strike camp ! The dawn is gray, 

115 



Geronimo 

And long the road that stretches out 
Between this waste and distant Fez ! 

[Tents quickly down and packed; Arab music; they 
depart. 

END OF SCENE 1. 



Scene 2. Prison. Geronimo in rags, chained to a block 
of stone by band round waist, rings on wrist with chain 
between; he is discovered sitting on the stone L. 

Geronimo. Three weeks ! Three weeks ! And what a 
life of pain ! 
A hot and weary journey from the coast 
To these great hills, at length, and the valley town 
Of ancient Fez ! And yet the soldiers said 
I bore it bravely, and in their rough way 
Showed me some little kindnesses, and plied 
Their useless arguments to make me turn 
From loving Christ to follow their Mahmoud ! 
And since I came here they have chained me fast 
Because they said I was a Christian dog, 
And tortured me with hunger, thirst and blows — 
They make my body weak, but not my mind ! 
My God, I still do love thee and defeat their hopes ! 

[Footsteps and the grating of a lock; enter three 
Imaums and the jailor; the latter soon retires. 
116 



Geronimo 

First Imaum. Geronimo ! For many weary days 
Thy body has known pain and want, thy mind 
Anxiety and loneliness, far worse 
For one like thee to bear than any pain: 
All thou endurest bravely, proving thus 
Thy manhood, as so often in the fight. 
And yet thou knowest how 'twill end. Thy pride 
Can never save thee from a cruel death. 
One month thou hadst to wait, until the tribes 
Could all be summoned to assemble here; 
That month is nearly gone — so is thy strength! 
Canst thou endure the torture while thy foes 
Wait to re-echo thy least moan of pain 
In cries of hoarse delight from thousand throats.'' 
Yet one more chance is given: Ali sends 
Us three as messengers to bid thee live. 
Say but the few short words that give thee back 
To thy first Moslem faith, and we command 
Thy jailor to release thee, and thou'rt free! 
[Exit jailor.] 

It is not hard! Dost thou believe in God-f* 
We worship Him as well; revere the names 
Of Abraham and Moses, David, Noah, 
And Isa ben Maryama; we but add 
The name of one more prophet to the list. 
Art thou too stubborn to accept of him.'' 
Didst thou have riches with thy Spanish friends, 

117 



Geronimo 

Cattle and wives and power over men — 
All these in more abundance shall be thine ! 

[Geronimo only shakes his head sadly, saying noth- 
ing. 

Second Imaum. What name along the coast 
Did men repeat with praise? 
Who leads his valiant host 
Now, in these latter days? 
Geronimo is dead, 
No other takes his place. 
The palm tree lifts its head 
Each spring in lovelier grace; 
But once a man shall die 
And vanish utterly. 

Unconquered in the fight, 
In council wise and true, 
He was a man of might 
And yet his years were few. 
All that he ever did 
Of wise or strong or bold, 
Was nought to what was hid 
In coming years of gold — 
But that he willed to die 
And vanished utterly ! 

He chose a traitor's death 
And fills a traitor's grave; 

118 



Geronimo 

His fame was but a breath, 
His honor who can save? 
Coward instead of chief; 
Foe instead of fi'iend; 
Torture without relief; 
Disgraceful, bitter end — 
Thus did he choose to die 
And vanish utterly! 

[A pause; then threateningly advances. 

Third Imaum. Still silent, Oh unhappy man! 
But one more week and thou shalt know 
All the full power of All's hate. 
O I could tear thee here and now 
With longing fingers, but 'twill serve 
A better purpose with the chiefs 
All gathered round, and rank on rank 
Of Arab warriors placed behind. 
That years to come shall hold no scene 
To tell of like to this, when meets 
This traitor coward his just death! 
Call on thy priest to save thee then; 
Pray to thy saints, or hold thy peace 
As now, and think of judgment day. 

All Three Imaums. When the sun hides his face 

And the stars glide down; 
When the mountains fall 

119 



Geronimo 

And the sea boils hot; 
When wild beasts gather. 
And the camels wander 
Alone beyond camp bounds; 
When soul joins body. 
And buried babes cry 
" For what did they slay me? " 
When the great books open 
And the heavens vanish, 
And hell burns fiercest — 
Then let thy soul know 
How thou art cursed! 
Vile dog of a Christian ! 
Renegade ! Traitor ! 

[They go out; the door is locked; the footsteps die 
away. 

Geronimo. Three weeks of living death ! 
O let the end come ere my strength depart ! 
My God, each passing breath 
But brings me nearer to thy loving heart! 
Grant that I firmly hold 
To thy dear hand, O Mother of my Lord, 
And I shall then be bold 
A little while, and death be my reward ! 

[Falls on his knees in prayer. 

END OF SCENE 2. 

120 



Geronimo 

Scene 3. — Unfinished wall and gateway of Bu Djelud, a 
palace between the two parts of the city. Michel 
and several Arab workmen building at the wall, very 
slowly. Michel wears some chains. 

Chorus of masons. When Edris built the walls of Fez 
He put a Christian 
Under each gatepost 
And the walls stood firm. 

Since then every wall in Fez 
Has stood on a Christian — 
We need one for this wall 
Or it won't stand firm. 

Michel. Yusuf, bring pitch and sand 
To mix in my trough. 

[They are brought and he mixes them with a rude 
trowel, stopping at times to watch his men. 

Ah me ! Geronimo, my fellow prisoner ! 

Chorus of masons. Michel, you Spaniard, 
Find us a Christian, 
Or we may have to use you 
To make the walls firm. 

121 



Geronimo 

Michel. Stronger than I and wiser, 
I love and lionor thee; 
And yet what fate awaits thee 
In thy fidelity ! 

Have all these weeks of sorrow 
Weakened thy noble soul? 
Wilt thou be strong t' endure it? 
My tears in pity roll 

[To the workmen.^ 

Hurry, men ! Ali will be coming 
And order the bastinado 
When he sees so little finished ! 
Yusuf , bring stone and chisel ! 

[They are brought and he begins to carve in silence. 

Chorus of masons. Here's a new wall and gateway 
And Fez has no Christian 
To make the big stones stand 
Steady and firm. 

[Enter Ali in deep thought.'] 

Ali. What shall I do to break that haughty pride 
That scorns my every effort, fears me not. 
Although I've plied the torture, hunger, thirst, 

123 



Geronimo 

And all the usual arts that melt strong men 
And render them like clay beneath my hand? 
First I must punish him before the tribes 
For being recreant from the Moslem faith; 
That's well enough for them — but for myself 
There's hate to pay which needs no alien weight 
From the mad zeal of these religious fools. 
" Fez has no Christian " — what was that, you slaves, 
Your brazen throats were bawling as I came along? 

Chorus of masons. Edris built Fez 
And the Djinns told him 
To put a live Christian 
Under each gatepost. 

AIL Ha! ha! I have it! 
The very thing! 
We'll have all the tribes here 
In the early morning before the sun's hot. 
And the whole long day 
He'll be slowly dying in the post! 
Edris and Ali build walls with Christians ! 
Michel, leave the gatepost, 
We'll complete it to-morrow — 
And you, fellow prisoner. 
Fellow Cliristian, shall do it ! 
O glorious plan, to make one 
Kill the other in that way! 

123 



Geronimo 

Stone him to death, I say, 

Stone him to death! but slowly, 

So as not to hurt him — 

Ha ! ha ! Well thought of ! 

Come slaves — Ha ! ha ! Well thought of ! 

l^Strikes Michel with a whip over the shoulders and 
goes off chuckling. The masons follow him. 
Michel throws himself on the ground and 
beats his head on the block he was carving. 

Michel. Oh, unhappy me ! 
Have I been brought from Spain 
To work for these vile robbers 
To bring so hard a death 
Upon my only friend ! 
Geronimo ! Geronimo ! 
Would thou hadst not been kind to me, 
I might perhaps have done it then ! 
Oh dearest friend, Geronimo ! 
No other voice spoke kindly to me 
Since first they brought me here, a lad. 
I can not do thee harm ! 
I did not learn to build. 
To carve the stones and place them. 
For such a cruel use ! 
And oh ! so fine a man ! 
Great warrior and thinker 

124 



Geronimo 

As I could never be — 

Why even All's soldiers 

Say they would rather have him, 

If he were only Moslem. 

All love him when they see him. 

Love and respect his courage. 

His noble look, his prowess, 

His strength and grace of body. 

[Enter Zoraiiayda, travel stained and weary, with 
old negress on whom she leans. Michel does 
not see them; sobbing. 

Geronimo ! 

Zorahayda. Who spoke that well loved name? 
What of Geronimo? 
Tell me, kind friend, I seek him 
For many a weary day; 
With only this old servant 
I've traveled all the way 
From distant Oran, city 
Of Spanish power and pride — 
Oh ! if you've any pity — 
I was to be his bride. 
But he, alas ! forsook me 
To fight his country's foe. 
All of his men were slaughtered 

125 



Geronimo 

But one; from him I know 

That he was brought by Ali 

To Fez. I stole away 

With but this faithful woman — 

But many things delay 

Two feeble women, heat 

By day and cold by night; 

And always traveled with me 

The fear that Ali might 

Ere this have killed him. Say 

He is not dead and take my load away! 

Michel. He is not dead, dear lady, 
A prisoner still, and weak 
With many a prison hardship. 
The man whom thou dost seek 
Still lives and bears thine image 
Upon his suffering heart. 

Zorahayda. O take me to him quickly ! 

Michel. Lady, I dare not. 

Zorahayda. Knowest thou where they keep him? 

Michel. Ali would spare not 
To lift his awful power 
'Gainst thy young life too. 
If he should learn thy presence. 

126 



Geronimo 

Zorahayda. Say what I shall do — 
I fear not for my own life ! 

Michel. I can not help thee ! 
I'll tell him how thou'st traveled 
Across these sand plains, 
These hills and mountain gorges ; 
'Twill ease his heart pains. 
And when the morning's first rays 
O'er Fez shall hover, 
Meet All with his men here, 
Plead for thy lover. 
Perchance his cruel heart thou 
Canst cause to soften 

[Exit greatly agitated. 

Zorahayda. O Mary, Mother of God, 
Help thy poor child to-night! 
Watch over him I love — 
And with the morning light 
Bring hope to both our hearts. 
Our loving hands unite 

Once more on earth. 

\_Exit 

END OF ACT 11. 
127 



Geronimo 



ACT III. 

Scene 1. Geronimo, in deep thought, sitting on block to 
which he is chained. Enter Michel, who stands at the 
door and regards him compassionately. Geronimo 
lifts his head and sings — • 

Geronimo. Thou Saint Stephen, protomartyr, precious in 
God's holy sight, 

Who didst shine in heavenly radiance, since in Love's super- 
nal might. 

Like thy Saviour, thou couldst utter for thine enemies a 
prayer. 

Pray with power for thy servant who for death must soon 
prepare. 

That my God may look upon me, hear thine interceding love. 

Pardon all my sins and take me soon to dwell in heaven 
above. 

And to God Supreme be honor and the glory evermore; 

God the Father, Son and Spirit, Three in One, whom we 
adore. 

Whose are wisdom, love and power, ever and forevermore! 

Michel. Dearest friend, thy hymn has cheered 
My weak heart, for much I feared 

128 



Geronimo 

My sad messages to bring. 
Now that I have heard thee sing, 
I may feel that thou canst bear 
My dark tidings. But one prayer 
I must make to thee before 
I can wound thy heart so sore ! 
Tell me that thou wilt not blame 
Thy poor friend Michel — the shame 
Makes me tremble — thou dost know 
That my poor heart loves thee so 
Of myself I could not be 
Source of added pain to thee ! 

Geronimo. Whate'er the sad thing be, Michel, be sure 
I freely pardon thee beforehand, know 
Thou art too much my friend to give me pain — 
And so speak calmly. 

Michel. Oh I can not tell 

The awful thing! 

Geronimo. Then must I help thee say 

What thy friend's love forbids — to-day 
Thou'st learned that Ali has decided on the time 

When he shall kill me, and 'tis very soon; 

Is that thy story? 

Michel. Oh but the manner of it ! 

The way the brute has chosen! 

129 



Geronimo 

Geronimo. Tell me that, 

And see how firm my mind is. Have no fear. 

Michel. To-day my men and I were set to work 
Upon the wall of Bu Djelud; they sang 
Some horrid song of Edris— how the Djinns 
Had said the walls would never stand, unless — 
Oh it is horrible ! — unless for each 
A living Christian were walled up ! 

Geronimo. Alive ! 

Michel. Alive ! And Ali chancing to pass by 
Heard the vile song 

[Breaks down and sobs. 

Geronimo. Now leave me, good Michel ; 

I must a little steel my heart to bear 
The worst that Ali's hate can bid him do. 
But tell me first, when said he I must die? 

Michel. To-morrow, as the day begins to dawn. 
In the full presence of the gathered tribes 

Geronimo. So soon ! 

130 



Geronimo 

Michel. Alas ! The worst I still have hid ! — 

'Tis my hand — O Geronimo, my friend ! 
He said I was a Christian too — forgive ! 

[Throws himself at Geronimo's feet. 

I am not strong and young as thou, and death 
Looks horrible to me; and in his hands 
I am as helpless as a babe ! Forgive, 
Forgive thy fellow prisoner, if the dawn 
Disclose how weak his strongest love must prove 
In terrors only thy strong soul can bear ! 

[Geronimo has hid his face in his hands; he keeps 
his position in silence. 

Michel. Geronimo ! Thou wilt forgive me ! 

Geronimo. Yes ! 

I had forgiven thee ere thou didst speak. 

[Gives him his hand, which Michel grasps eagerly. 

[After a pause.^ 

Michel. I hear that Ali's soldiers wish to make 
Thee chief instead of him, if thou wilt turn 
And be once more a Moslem, as at first. 

[Aside.^ 
131 



Geronimo 

Now shall I tell him Zorahayda's here; 

That I have seen and spoken with her; seen 

How strong and beautiful her soul must be, 

How strong and pure her love, since all is writ 

In lovely grace upon her fearless brow; 

That slie has bravely journeyed with one slave 

From distant Oran ! I would comfort him. 

But fear 'twill add a poison to his wounds 

To tell him she no longer dwells in peace. 

Securely in her father's house, but here 

For his dear sake shares danger like his own ! 

I can not further try him ! Oh my friend, 

I'm old and weak — would I were brave like thee! [Exit. 

[After a pause, Geronimo throws himself on his 
knees, restlessly moving his arms, grasping at 
the edges of the stone; suddenly he smites it 
with his clenched fist, crying out — • 

One more short night ! And all the length of it 
I still must stare this horror in the face ! 
I'll meet it like a man, not a chained slave! 

[Rising, he wraps body chain about the projecting 
ring in the block of stone, grasps the chain at 
the body ring, throwing his weight back again 
and again; at last, with a cry and a mighty 
effort, he snaps the chain at the body ring; falls 
and lies resting a few moments. 
132 



Geronimo 

Now these hateful things ! Give me my arms again ! 
There was a time I could have broken them ! 

l^Clears ring in block and wraps the chain hetrveen 
his hands about it, in such a way that his right 
hand is close to the stone; then, striving, pulls 
his right hand through; clenches and opens it a 
few times. He rewinds the chain and repeats 
for the left hand; it will not come through; 
grasping his left hand firmly in his right, with 
a quick jerk he snaps the chain close to the left 
wrist; pulls down sleeve and pushes the ring 
up over it to the fleshy part of the arm. 
Stretches and sits down to rest. 

They hope to move me by their bribes and tlireats ! 
Thinking these weeks of suffering have so sapped 
My strength of mind that I can weakly cease 
To love the God whose strength alone it is 
That gives me power to bear all steadfastly! 
And now the final hour approaches, and all pain 
Of body, mind and soul shall so unite 
That only God can make my triumph sure ! 

What fear shall frighten me ! 'twill be release, 

After short culminating agony ; 

And then all sorrow shall be done away ! 

l^Rises and begins to pace up and down, with fre- 
quent pauses. 

133 



Geronimo 

And yet 'tis not too late^ for Michel says 

That if to-morrow I give up my faith, 

They'll make me head of all this warrior race — 

Ha ! if I wait in patience for a while 

How many chances of escape I'd find ! 

At last perhaps to join my friends once more! 

Escape ! Ah, that would mean my father's house 

The Guard I've served in since my early youth 

And only lately led in sole command, 

And, better far than safety, place, or fame, 

O Zorahayda! thy great love again! 

O Sweet ! Not yet my wife ! And for thy sake 

Now in this lonely hour I can rejoice 

It is not so ! What wilt thou say and do 

When I come back to thee never again ! — 

After thy solemn warning, which my pride 

Kept me from heeding ! For with all my strength, 

Thou'rt wiser far than I, and hast the power 

To read the future in prophetic love. 

Thou mayest already picture me as dead; 

And all too soon — nay, even now 'tis true ! 

Oh, how I loved thee — as a growing boy 
Worships the one bright image of his soul; 
And how my love grew steadily with my years; 
And when my father gave me, as his son. 
Freedom to roam the palace halls at will, 
How my demanding soul discovered thee 

134 



Geronimo 

And felt with added clearness all its need! 

And more and more we shared our eager lives, 

And every breath kept thee alive for me, 

And every breath I drew but gave me power 

To love thee more! The longing of those years 

I was so proud I could not yet reveal; 

But when at last I told thee all my love 

How nobly didst thou hear it, with the grace 

And truth which make thee peerless! Oh my joy, my life! 

And soon we had been one 

But if I love 
Thy truth and beauty, dost thou value less 
My honor and my soldier's loyalty? 
If to an earthly foe I should betray 
An earthly leader, even to save my life, 
Couldst thou then love me? And if I betray 
The very God I taught tliec first to know. 
How righteously thy love would turn to scorn ! 

O God, if love for all I lose should overcome 
My feebleness, I pray thee take away 
My mind in mercy, that I may not do 
This treachery — I pray for light 
In the midst of scorn and persecution — 
And grace, that I be steadfast through the worst 
That man may do to me — Thy love is more 
Than life to me — Grant that I be not tried 
Too long, for I am very weak ! 

135 



Geronimo 

But that Thy love is true I were o'erwhelmed 

In horrible despair ! 

Though tortures wring 

Tears from these eyes 

That have despised weepings 

Still give them no dominion over me! 

hear my cry in the night and kill me now ! 

1 am not able to endure it! 

let me live, that I may show 
How Thou dost love Thine own. 

1 see this power broken, and the ignorant zeal 
Of these fierce men illumined by Thy love; 

So that the desert sand plains blossom forth 
With the beauteous flowers of Thy holiness; 
I see my death but as a step toward that ; 
I see not how — O fill me with calm joy 
That Thou hast chosen me ! 
Christ pardon my sins ! 
I am not worthy ! 

Break heart of flesh with all thy human pain ! 
O heart of God, beat in this bosom now I 
That no pain make me cling to mortal life 
Through shrinking dread of thine immortal death. 
Be Thou, O God, the strength of my soul ! 

136 



Geronimo 

All that I love to Thy dear hands I leave 
For Thou alone canst care for them and me ! 

Now must I sleep, that on the morrow 
I be not weaker than the morrow's trial. 

[^Addresses himself to sleep. A large cross glows 
for a moment at the hack of the stage. 

END OF SCENE 1. 



Scene 2. Early dawn before the unfinished gateway of 
Bu Djelud. Michel and a few Arabs hurriedly pre- 
paring the post for Geronimo, leaving a niche into 
which he can be put with but four or five blocks needed 
to cover him. 

Michel. O noble soul ! O more than man, to sleep 
So calmly on the night before thy death ! 
O how thy face did glow with heaven's light 
When I awoke thee for this wretched deed 
My hands must work ! One kindness still is mine, 
An evil kindness; yet 'twill foil in part 
The lingering pain of Ali's cruel plan ! 
For I have filled my trough with pitch; 
At the last moment I shall pour it in 
And quickly end the life that else had spent 
The long hot day in dying misery ! 

137 



Geronimo 

I can not save thee. I can not refuse 
To do this thing at Ali's harsh command; 
But I can make thy suffering short and quick — ■• 
And if it's wicked^ God will pardon me! 

[Arab bands, distinguished by dress and arms, file 
in from each side and form so that a clear space 
is left in the middle; the chiefs in front, on each 
side. Arab music. Ali enters with his body- 
guard. 

Ali. Michel, is all prepared? 

[Michel borvs his head. Without stopping to let 
him answer, Ali inspects the niche. 

Go, some of you, and bring Geronimo ! 

[^Two Arabs depart and bring Geronimo from back 

through gateway, the jailor leading and the 
Arabs following. 

Ali. Who took thy fetters off? 

Geronimo. A man thinks best when all his limbs are free; 
I took them off to ease my mind last night. 

l^Scowling at him, and lashing himself into fury as 
he speaks. 

138 



Geronimo 

AIL O how I hate thee! 
In our youth we met 
In war^ and every time 
By luck or accident 
Thou wert the victor. 
I have vowed revenge and waited 
All these long years, 
My hate feeding upon itself; 
Robbing my life of peace; 
Till in my power, at last, 
I have thee safely mine ! 
And all the sleepless nights 
I've spent in plotting ways 
Of putting thee to death; 
And all the angry days 
When thy good luck has saved thee. 
Are more than paid for now ! 
I'd not abate one part 
Of baffled hate and scorn 
Thou'st caused me ! My revenge 
Is greater now than all ! 
That other Christian coward 
Shall save my hand the stain 
Of touching thee. To-morrow 
We march again to Oran. 
Thy father and thy mistress 
We'll bring across the desert, 
And here in Fez we'll treat them 

139 



Geronimo 

To death like thine, or worse! 

Dost know, thou miserable one. 

That I have power to kill thee? 

Dost thou not hear me speak 

That thou standest with blank staring eyes^ 

Saying never a word! 

[Draws sword and threatens to kill him. 

Nay, I have saved thee 

For slower death than this. 

Of which thou art not worthy ! 

All the hot day long 

Thou wilt die in that wall ; 

And thy thoughts shall drive thee mad first. 

And thou'lt moan for water 

With parched and blackened tongue 

Hast thou nought to say? 
Dost thou fear me not at all? 

[Stepping out from the throng — 

An aged Arab. Ali, stay thy hand! 
For all the gathered tribes I speak 



[To Geronimo.] 

Geronimo, thou'rt Arab, like us all, 
A mighty warrior, true as the stars in heaven; 

140 



Geronimo 

If thou wilt yet turn to thy boyhood's faith 
Thou shalt be head and leader of us all 
Instead of Ali. Knowing we can trust 
Thy loyal bravery and thy gentle strength, 
The elders offer this and so we all decide. 
If thou refuse, 'tis just that thou shouldst die 

[To All] 

But we forbid all needless cruelty 
Or insult to that fearless man of men ! 

[Aside, watching Geronimo' s face anxiously. 

Ali. Oh inmost soul of hate! 
Oh rage, a thousand lives 
Could not appease by dying! 
Will he hear at last? 
Is he fool enough to die now? 
Oh if thou dost accept 
My hand shall kill thee 
Though I die myself 
By the weapons of these fools ! 
Chief instead of me ! 
Of me, Ali ! 

Oh, base-born ! Oh, slave ! 
Oh, rooted in thy folly ! 
I shall go mad with loathing ! 

141 



Geronimo 

Geronimo. AM, mine enemy ! I pity and forgive 
The wretched soul that drives thee mad with utter hate. 
Thou'rt Spaniard born, and so Arab thou ne'er canst be; 
Thou'rt Christian born, and now lovest Mahmoud no more 
Than I, who die alone because I follow Christ; 
Thou'rt far from truth and honor, so thou dost despise 
All constancy in other men; thou hast no love 
For any living thing, and so hast love from none. 
My former wars with thee have changed the generous hate 
A soldier feels to fierce malignant thirst for blood ! 
I'll not deny my God for any earthly thing, 
Not even to lead these men to future victories ! 
Do with me as thou wilt. Thou hast the power. But know 
God will require my life soon at thy godless hands. 
Knowing that thou canst feel but awful fear of death, 
I pity thee, forgive thee, and pray God to forgive 

Ali. Away with him! 
Bind him and build him into the wall ! 

[He is seised, hound, and placed in the niche. 
Michel quickly puts up one or two large stones, 
which nearly conceal him. Zorahayda rushes 
on stage. Casts herself at his feet. 

Zorahayda. Ali ! Where is my lover ? 
Tell me thou hast not killed him ! 
Tell me what price thou askest; 

142 



Geronimo 

Were it the greatest ransom 
Ever yet asked for captive. 
My father will pay thee. 
Oh let him go free ! 
I'll serve thee as thy slave 
And never ask to see him 
Again, but live and labor 
In joy that I have saved him! 

AIL There is thy lover. 

[Pointing to gate; she tries to go to him. 

Zorahayda. Geronimo ! 

Ali. Seize her, men! 

[Two Arabs catch her by the arms and make as if 
to carry her arvay. 

Nay, let her stay, 

'Tis all I needed to complete 

My triumph ! Let her watch him die ! 

Zorahayda. Oh Ali ! Kind and generous Ali ! 
Take me and kill me. 
Let me die in his place ! 
See, I offer thee myself 

143 



Geronimo 

And all that woman holds most dear. 
And makes her not ashamed to look 
In the face of other women 

AIL Thou'rt in my power now ! 
I swore I'd take thee 
And use thee as I pleased 
Or spurn thee. Tell me not 
Of what thou'lt offer! 
No word of mine 
Shall set him free again. 

Zorahayda. Let me embrace him once! 
We parted so sadly ! 
Let me hear him say 
That he forgives and loves me — ■ 
Then treat me as thou wilt 

l^Tears herself loose and tries to run to Geronimo 
hut is caught and dragged back. After a 
struggle she controls herself. 

dearest friend ! O dear Geronimo ! 

1 can but bid thee pray and trust in God! 
Forget me and our human love^ and look 
On Him who loved enough to give himself 
To die for sinful man; and thou canst know 
A joy like His in dying for thy faith! 

144 



Geronimo 

Look on the Son of Mary! Show these men 
How real and glorious is the Christian's hope! 

Michel. His hope is blessed certainty, for God 
Has taken him. O God, accept my thanks ! 

[He puts the last block in place and conceals Geron- 
imo completely. 

[To Ali, while he cowers before her — 

Zorahyda. O wretched enemy of truth! 
Now do I know why I was filled 
With that strong impulse to depart 
And follow him I hold most dear! 
God would not have me rob his Church 
Of one more blessed martyr ! No ! 
I came to save him — I rejoice 
That now I soon shall join him there 
Beyond all power of man to harm! 
As God's appointed instrument 
Of vengeance for this awful death, 
I come and bid thee follow him! 
The selfsame day we three shall stand 
Before the judgment seat of God! 

Death lays its hand upon my heart 

God, give me strength that I discharge 
This, my last duty to the dead ! 

145 



Geronimo 

All. Help men! Take her! 
She is mad with grief! 

[She stabs Ali and falls dead. 

[A large cross at the back of the stage burns brighter 
and brighter; the heavens open and Geronimo, 
and ZoRAHAYDA^s double, ascend, as a heavenly 
choir welcomes them with joyful music. 



146 



Symbols 

[From the Koran.^ 

I saw the vine and the ivy, 
In curling close embrace, 
From a tomb strive ever upward 
In strangling folds of grace. 

I heard the sad life story 

Of those who were buried there; 

Of the woman with clinging passion; 

Of the man, with passion to dare. 

Of the pitiless human standard. 
Setting Nature aside as Shame — 
Of the souls, immortal, yearning, 
It killed, since it could not tame. 

Alas ! How oft must it happen 
Before the race shall be wise; 
How long must empty Opinion 
Require such sacrifice; 
And the twining vine and the ivy 
Be the symbols of Truth — made Lies ! 
147 



Song 

Weary and spent with the fierce toil of life. 

Alone and comfortless; 
Seeing about me naught but care and strife; 
My soul goes out in longing that I might possess 
One grateful solace mid such deep distress. 

Naught pleases me of earthly things this side the grave 

Save one — 'tis thou alone! 
The honors and rewards for which men slave 
All turn to dross in the enjoying, and the throne 
Of kings I would not care to own. 

So that thou grant me that for which I long — 

Thyself, so sweet and pure — 
Life's greatest trial and sorrow with a song 
And uncomplaining I'll for thee endure — 
Can I but feel thou art to me secure! 



148 



At First Sight 

I SAW her face one moment — 'twas enough! 
The passing throng soon carried it away; 
But in my soul the picture still abides. 
There strongly lined until my latest day. 

She was my pure ideal of womanhood 
For whom my heart so long had yearned and wept; 
She woke within me all my nature's good 
Which till that time had safely hid and slept. 

And now when trials press and friends forsake, 

The sun is darkened, life is lost in night, 

I gaze upon the single picture — hers — 

My memory holds, and all the world grows bright. 

We may not meet again upon this earth. 
Or after years of joyless life apart; 
That brings no pain, for if there be a heaven 
We'll meet and love each other heart to heart. 

If heaven be a myth, as wise men say. 
And after death come nothing but long sleep. 
Why, I can dream of her; I've seen and love her! 
My love's enough; what need have I to weep? 
149 



Love at Dawn 

The eastern deeps are wakening, 
In smiles the light plays through; 

O'er slumbering plain its glances creep, 

O'er mist-hid waters, dark with sleep. 
And ever farther beckoning 

Awake the distant view. 

My heart thine eyes are gladdening; 

Their jealous lids, apart, 
Let out the prisoned looks which steep 
My soul in joy; my pulses leap 

With love fire, sweet and maddening, 
Hot from my heaving heart. 

Arise, O Sweet! Confiding 
In perfect strength of trust, 

Hand locked in hand, come forth to reap 

The golden hours, let others weep — 
Ours is a love abiding 

Though all else turn to dust ! 



150 



Denial 

Why art thou sad? 
I am not sad! 
Can I be sorrowful 
And Iiold her picture 
Clear in my memory? 
Thou dost mistake ! 
Why dost thou sigh? 
I did not sigh ! 
True I toiled painfully, 
Strong with my yearning; 
But the gift, finished. 
Of her was not worthy — 
'Twas only my poor heart 
With love o'erflowing! 

What means that tear? 

Ah ! 'tis the moisture 
Left of the tempests 
Racking my nature, 
That ever above me. 
Beyond me, in beauty 
Of soul as of person. 
She dwells, never knowing 
My need, and tliough trying 
I come not nigh her ! 
151 



Denial 

Hast thou no hope? 

What need of hope then? 

Hourly I linger 

In thought on her person, 

Her heart's rare perfection, 

Her soul's lofty pureness : 

To me it suffices, 

This cherished remembrance. 

And at the end? 

When earth has vanished 
And Heaven holds loved one 
And lover — she'll know me, 
And I — shall be worthy. 
Till then I am patient! 



153 



Wave Messages 

I STAND on the shore of the sea 
As it plaintively talketh to me 
In murmuring whispers of life 

And its meaning. 
And as one turneth his head 
Parallel with the face of the dead. 
Last thoughts of soul-suffering and strife 

So gleaning, 
I endeavor my mental condition 
To bring to a fitting position 
So to gather the sounds of the sea 

All together. 
That the words of the hymn the waves sing 
To my spirit more wisdom may bring, 
And the Music be echoed in me 

Of the weather. 
But ev'n as my footsteps remain 
Not a moment, the water again 
Fast oozing and crumbling them out 

Of the sand; 
So it maketh impression on me. 
Dim lined, and not lasting — to flee 
As my influence and hope fade, in doubt, 

From the land. 
163 



Song 

Here by the brook where the green reeds lie 
A youth there wandered in days gone by, 

All lonely; 
Till a Naiad rose from the sunlit wave 
And cried, as his heart to her hands he gave, 
" I love thee, O Youth, so noble and brave! 

Thee only ! " 

The long day faded all out of the sky. 
And the homeward birds to their nest did fly. 

And found him 
By the river's bank still waiting there. 
And his head sunk low on his breast he bare- 
All fast with the threads of her golden hair 

She'd bound him. 

And now, as the breezes breathe and sigh 
Through the summer night, a sorrowing cry 

And tearful. 
The murmuring brook for its own will take; 
'Tis the wail of a man's heart nigh to break. 
And listening peasants a swift cross make. 

All fearful. 
154 



Song 

From the stream of my sorrows, even I 
See a form arise, and all joyfully cry 

" Thee only ! " 
Ah, leave me not to the long sad night. 
By a woman's eye and its liquid light 
Held fast; in the charm of my love's sweet might 

All lonely ! 



155 



Meeting in After Years 

Thou shalt not kiss my hand ! 

It is defiled 
With many a willful touch of sin. 

Rather command 
I cleanse it, ere my longings wild 
Reach toward thy rosy fingers and shut them in ! 

Thou must not kiss my cheek ! 

Long since it lost 
The power to blush at any shame. 

The rather speak 
Mine eyes free from their year-long frost 
And teach the tears to flow as once they came ! 

Thou canst not kiss my lip ! 

It learned the art 
In earliest years to smile and lie. 

The rather strip 
Me wholly from thy pitying heart — 
My forehead kiss, once — and then pass me by ! 



156 



Song 

Through the night the bough sustains 
Pure white rose and singing bird, 
And no other sound is heard 

Than the passionate love strains. 

As the shadows all retreat. 

Sings the bird " O Rose, so white, 
Morning joys in morning's light — 

I would know pain also. Sweet. 

'Gainst the thorn I lay my breast. 
And thy whiteness in the tide 
Of my life henceforth is dyed — 

Love in sorrow finds its zest ! " 

Rose and nightingale are dead, 
And my heart has suffered pain — 
But what memories wake again 

In the rosebud's passionate red! 



157 



Aged Companions* 

The long-drawn sighings of an Autumn day, 

Slow dying in gray cloud, 
Whisper through aged branches, long endowed 
With but the lichens of dead memories — 

Alas ! like these old trees. 
Our youthful powers and beauty, dearest Friend, decay ! 

Alone they stand together on the waste 

Of parched and yellowing grass; 
And when the gathering Winter shall o'erpass 
The withered branches, stiffening to their death, 

Spring's recreative breath 
Shall bring no timid leaves in tender greenness traced. 

No more the birds shall find a shelter there 

To build the dainty nest. 
Nor shall tired reapers, by the heat distressed. 
Find grateful quiet in the song-filled shade — 

Ah Sweet! I grow afraid 
In thinking of the end for which we must prepare ! 
*Written for a picture by Swain Gifford. 
158 



Aged Companions 

Long have we yearned, each toward the loving heart 

So near, yet unattained ! 
Long since have lost the little we had gained 
Through weary years. We have no other friend; 

And but one joy — to spend 
Ev'n these last days so near ; not One, yet not apart ! 



159 



A Song" of Running Waters 
No. 1. 

In lonely coolness, dark and deep, 
The trees' long shadows fall, and sleep 
In quivering beauty, and quiet rest. 
Bright glancing fountain, upon thy breast. 

Peaceful and calm are thy pent-up powers; 
Perfumed and dainty the slow-nodding flowers 
That garnish thy many-hued banks of green 
And thy prisoning rocks, with the moss between. 

Like a glance in the mirror of childhood's truth, 
I think, as I gaze on thine innocent youth, 
Of the knowledge to come, both of sorrow and glee, 
As thou hastenest hence to thy home in the sea. 



160 



A Song of Running Waters 

No. 2. 

By pebbly pool and rocky glen 

With ripple and laugh and song. 
The tiny rills unite, and run 
In swelling volume toward the sun, 

Happy and free and strong. 

Where rolls the busy stream of men 

With jostle and rush along, 
I stand and ask " What use, each one. 
As he strives and struggles and never is done 

With cruelty, shame and wrong ? " 

But the brooks are lost till they join, and then 

No way seems lonely or long; 
But each goes on till the end be won — 
No droplet rests at the toil begun — 

And thus is their j ourney Song ! 



161 



A Song of Running Waters 

No. 3. 

The wind's wild rush and the pattering rain^ 

And the thunder^ muttering loud ; 
With tremulous fire and lightning flame 

Through masses of threatening cloud; 
And a wrestling soul 'neath the terrible strain 

Of sorrows that torture and crowd. 

A riven dike and the yawning ground 

With the river hurrying through; 
Death and despair o'er a waste profound 

Of waters that seethe and brew; 
And the wail of a soul — " Alas ! there is found 

No pity, proud World, in you ! " 

A pestilent desert that stretches wide 
As the waters retreat to their bed; 

And heavy-winged birds that long have cried 
With voices of horror and dread; 

And an unknown corpse, that heaves as the tide 
Winds sea-weed about its head ! 



163 



Man Love 

O now my soul does long 
For some true woman-soul, 

Which might be merged with mine. 

Making it thus complete ! 

Ah, how the longings twine. 

In torture mixed with sweet. 
Mid power and purpose, strong 
Beyond my strength's control! 



Thus far, myself I find 

A heaving tireless sea 

Of impulse, thought, desire 
And consciousness of might; 
Lacking, to make entire 
Its incompleteness, right 

Its wrong, some lovelier mind 

To rest, inspire me. 



163 



Man Love 

Nor can I reason clear 

My own so clear-felt need — 
What sufferer, fever tossed. 
Can find the ailment's cure? 
I trust, and feel, that lost 
In some great love, all pure 

Body and soul — no fear! 

I were refreshed indeed! 



Such love but women give! 
No man, though giving all 

To fill another's lack 

Could ever satisfy. 

A man, when foes attack! 

A man, when needs one die ! 
What helps a man to live? 
Wife-love, surpassing all! 



This strengthens impulse good 

But wavering; lightens care; 
Makes it an easier thing 
To climb up heavenward; 
In life's worst wrestling 
The conflict's best reward; 

Graces man's manlihood; 

Is constant, faithful, fair. 
164 



Man Love 

What will I ask of her? 
Ask that she be but true 
To Womanhood's high aim 
Aud purest bright ideal; 
And, in the struggle, claim 
What pains she knows, to feel- 
No weakness need deter 
If I have strength for two ! 



Offering what return 

For all she shall confer? 
Efforts, of growing worth. 
To reach and make my own 
Her spirit's plane; leave earth 
Below, and, like her grown. 

Endeavor then to learn 

How much I owe to her: — 



Gather life's triumphs up 
And lay them at her feet; 

Giving her all my best; 

Guarding her when I may. 

Ever to her confessed 

Indebted, night and day, 
For all that makes life's cup 
Easy to drink, and sweet. 
165 



Man Love 

So should we two progress 

Toward holier unity; 
Anticipating Heaven, 
Although content with earth. 
Less in our souls Sin's leaven. 
More would the pure have birth; 

Wrong to correct grow less; 

Perfecting sympathy ! 



166 



Woman Love 

I CAN not tell you all. 
Some part, perhaps; 
But even women's confidences end 
Before all's said there is to say. 
When but a girl, admiring some great man 
Of whom I heard, there came 
A thought that innocently ran 
Amid my dreams and musings 
Of women who had been renowned; 
And I would question, who of these could share 
In such nobility as his? 
For somehow, all untaught, 
I knew there should be gentle loving hands 
To minister to him, when the world's cares 
He bore should be too wearisome. 
I knew that highest souls 
Ever attract high souls unto themselves; 
And one of these should be pre-eminent 
In understanding half-formed plans for good. 
Partaking of success, comforting in defeat. 
And being still to listen while he spoke 
Of greater things to be accomplished yet 
167 



Woman Love 

In service of mankind. 

Then I would think and wonder. 

Could myself grow fit 

To play such part? 

We women have our thoughts so narrowed down 

To trivial details of the common day. 

That it is hard to leave the fireside 

And take, in mind, a broader interest 

In what tires out the hands and brains of men. 

Men make the kingdom, and then govern it. 

They meet all weathers, measuring strength of head 

And muscle, in a conflict far too keen 

For us. They carry on the strife, and only ask 

There be a woman's face at home 

Kindling and glowing when the warrior comes, 

His shoulders laden with the conquered spoil. 

But with my years has grown — 

With wiser sympathy for the workers — 

A feeling, — an intensified desire — 

For one on whom to spend my best 

Lavishly, hungering but for more 

That with wide arms extended 

I may say, " Take ! 

All I have and am, and pay me with your love! 

Fold round me a strong arm, 

Give me the right to love. 

To share your thoughts and plans 



168 



Woman Love 

With patience till I gain more power ! " 

I crave a woman's highest joy, self-sacrifice. 

Becoming all for one she holds most dear 

On earth, becoming naught 

That he may be the more ! 

I fully know — • 

That could I find the man 

Who answered all my hopes. 

Was manly, pure and true. 

Had I the world to give 

'Twere but a silly price 

To pay for his man-love ! 

And should he say to me 

" I love you " — • 

Could these lips meet his and feel no shame. 

Would he in patience guide and help. 

Protect and cherish me; 

Reconciling me to my womanhood 

By the very sacrifice of it for him; 

And love me, always love! — • 

Ah ! There's more than this — ■ 

I can not tell it you. 

I feel it ever stronger — • 

He shall know when he comes ! 

No, he has not come yet; 

I had not talked so freely else — • 

Save to him! 



169 



Engaged 

To feel thy soft flesh meet with mine, 

Heart-beat on heart, with nought between; 
Drink from wide eyes love's fiery wine, 
Close and more close our forms entwine 
In passionate love dream — • 

To measure out life's utmost span, 

Foot-step with foot, in pace serene; 
Fulfilling all of God's great plan. 
Thou more a Woman, I more Man, 
Until the end supreme — ■ 

Thus does my nature, three-fold, yearn, 

And thus demand thee for my wife; 
That we, by pain and joy may learn. 
As the strange web each side shall turn. 
Living, and what is Life ! 



170 



Wedding Eve 

Thy little hand has touched my face 

In pure caress; 
It did not know the perfect grace 
Of its confiding gentleness. 

Thine eyes have told a wondrous tale 

Of love to mine; 
They could not see my spirit fail 
Before a message so divine. 

Yet love me, Sweet, even as thou hast 

In former years ; 
Ask nothing of the buried past; 
It is not worthy of thy tears. 

Together tread we life's long way 

In glad content; 
The gathering joy of each new day 
In memory is never spent. 

Cross but this threshhold into our 

Eternity — 
And Love shall bless us with the power 
To know its silent mystery. 
171 



Married 

Our faces turn in the dark 
Each with a sweet desire, 

And the loving lips meet sure 
And kiss, and can not tire. 

So turns my soul unto thine! 

Longing, through deeper night, 
For union with thee more pure 

Than body's, in its despite! 

This be the common mark — ■ 

This be the thought, like wine 

To flow in the veins; like fire 

To shine in the eye's love-light- 
So is the future secure! 



172 



Friendship 

Like that God-thought which holds the worlds in place, 
Unseen, unquestioned, strong and limitless ; 
Knowing for change but growing tenderness ; 
From man to man the very purest grace 
That can be shown; filling the human face 

With wistful love and steady heaven's light 
That life-long keeps the eyes of memory bright ; 
Intolerant of time, of age, and space: — • 

There is that other thought by which the race 
Of man together holds, and each one turns 
With gravitating force which knows no end 
About some soul that with a beauteous trace 
Inscribes, deep in his heart, a script that burns 
Forevermore in love — " I am thy Friend! " 



173 



Envoy 

Oh ! Once to soak one's soul in deepmost strain 
Of murmuring minors ! — Say an Autumn eve, 
Full of sad presage mind can scarce perceive 

Distinctly, quiet joy, content, and pain; 

With deep gray clouds to hint of heavy rain, 
And glowing sunflecks, telling of reprieve 
From body's misery, hopes that but deceive, 

And the long life a soul can yearn and strain 

After Ideals, endeavoring to gain 

A Best which shall be flawless ; to believe 
It never was, nor will be — Oh conceive 

The flesh exhausted and the weary brain 

Refreshed so fully once ! And then the ease 
Of swift-come sleep, and dreamed eternities! 



174 



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